


This Wicked Game

by cherrystreet



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Bachelor AU, Blow Jobs, Bottom Louis, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mentions Of Infidelity, Smut, Top Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 07:57:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 70,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7566271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrystreet/pseuds/cherrystreet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU in which The Bachelor is gay, Louis is a contestant, Harry is the bachelor, everyone drinks a lot of champagne, the entire world gets to watch them fall in love, and no one plays by the rules.</p><p>---</p><p>
  <a href="http://cherrystreet.tumblr.com/post/147863025262/title-this-wicked-game-author-cherrystreet">Tumblr</a>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

It’s all Zayn’s fault.

At least, this is what Louis keeps telling himself as he packs suitcase upon suitcase to head to Los Angeles for an undetermined amount of time. He shoves a fourth pair of Vans into his bag, trying and failing to get the suitcase zipper shut as Zayn continues to argue for the millionth time that Louis could have said no, that he didn’t have to agree to this. But Louis shakes his head. He can’t back out, not now. It’s basically a challenge at this point, one he doesn’t intend to back down from.

He still hates Zayn for it, though.

“You can easily get yourself sent home the first night,” Zayn offers. “Just make an ass of yourself. I’m sure that wouldn’t be difficult, you do it all the time.”

Louis curses as the zipper gets caught on something inside the suitcase. “Why would I fly across the country only to make myself look like a dick on national television and then have to fly home immediately after. And thanks for the compliment. You’re a peach.”

“I’m just  _ saying, _ if it totally sucks, you can make up some sob story about how you can’t be there and it’s too hard and need to come back home. Worst case scenario. People do it all the time.”

“Yeah.  _ People. _ I’m not people.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Oh, right, your highness.”

Louis flips him off. “You got me into this mess. You should be kissing my ass right about now.”

“I was trying to do you a favor!”

“On what planet is signing me up for  _ The Bachelor _ a fucking favor?!”

Zayn sighs. “I told you I was sorry, like, a thousand times. I just figured you’d have fun with it.”

“Yeah, well. Now I have to, don’t I?”

He pats Louis on the head. “That’s the spirit. Now, hurry up with your bags, princess. You have a pumpkin to catch and your Prince Charming awaits.”

Louis slaps him.

 

Nine months earlier, Louis had been sitting on his couch, drink in hand, excitedly awaiting the season premiere of  _ The Bachelor _ to begin. It was a guilty pleasure, one he was embarrassed to dabble in, but after watching it for six consecutive seasons, he’d accepted the fact that his Monday nights would forever consist of yelling at the TV screen for America’s apparent top bachelor to pick the man he deemed most perfect of the bunch.

He settled in amongst the couch cushions, tapping his fingers against the cooled glass of his beer bottle, and mentally rated each man who stepped out of the limo to meet their potential future husband, Benjamin.

“No, fuck this guy, he’s a former model. Former. As in unemployed and getting uglier. Six out of ten.  _ Next. _ ” He took a sip of his drink and put his other hand on his calico, Finn, and listened to him purr. “Ben, stop. Don’t flirt with Mr. Roids. Seriously? He’s, like, a four.”

This continued for a while, Louis watching intently as each contestant was interviewed and flexed their muscles as they stared off into some distant field or skyline, as if it was a normal day-to-day occurrence for them. He was in the middle of scoffing at some lawyer from Detroit when Zayn called him.

“Zayn, you  _ know _ this is my Bachelor time. I can’t talk now,” Louis scolded when he picked up the phone.

“I know, Jesus, sorry. I’ll be quick. I had a question about that meeting we have tomorrow.”

“Hurry up, the last limo just pulled up to the mansion.”

“For the love of God, this show is the cheesiest junk in the world, and you’re not even that stupid. How can you fall for it?”

“Who said I fall for it? It’s a crock of shit. I know. But why would I ever pass on the opportunity to judge and mercilessly mock a bunch of semi-attractive men for two hours, oh my God,  _ pause. _ ”

Zayn sighed. “I really have zero interest in discussing this show with you. I just wanted to know if Lisa was going to be at the meeting.”

“I’m not even going to pretend I just listened to you because  _ Zayn. _ The most attractive human I’ve ever seen just stepped out of this limo.” Louis actually leaned forward to get closer to the TV screen. “I think I love him. I want to lick his face.”

“You are aware you’re  _ not _ a Great Dane, right.”

The man’s name and occupation flashed at the bottom of the screen and Louis nearly blacked out. “Shut up,  _ shut the fuck up, _ he’s a fucking pediatric dentist. I’m going to die. Seriously. You’ll find my body at the bottom of the river. Zayn! He’s a  _ doctor _ for  _ kids! _ ”

“Yeah, I know what a pediatric dentist is. Okay, you’re useless, I’m calling Liam instead.”

“Whatever.” He hung up, not waiting for another word from Zayn, and stared at the screen, unblinking. He swallowed heavily as Harry’s interview played.

“Hello, I’m Harry Styles, I’m 26, and I’m from San Francisco, California. I’m a dentist and I absolutely love what I do. Kids are honestly so funny, and most are so inspiring. I don’t think I would love working as a regular dentist as much as I love working with children.” The camera panned in on a shot of Harry looking at an X-ray at his office, then he high-fived the boy standing next to him and handed him a toothbrush. Louis’ mouth practically watered. “I have one sister and even though my family is small, we’re very close.” Harry and whom Louis presumed to be his sister and parents sat around a dinner table, clinking wine glasses together, and laughed wholeheartedly at a staged joke the audience didn’t get to hear. “I’m a big believer in family time, so it’s important to me to find someone who appreciates that.” Harry then walked down a trail, which led to the Golden Gate Bridge. He stared wistfully into the distance. Louis couldn’t think of one thing to make fun of, for the first time ever. “I want someone who won’t hate my stupid sense of humor too much, likes to experience and try new things, and is always up for an adventure. I don’t like to sit still for too long, and I’m looking for the man who will run with me. I think that man could be Ben.”

Louis stared, unmoving, as Harry and Ben met for the first time outside the mansion’s front entrance, and when Harry smiled, his dimples popped out, and Louis almost screamed. “Ben, you fucking son of a bitch, this one’s a ten. He’s amazing. Don’t fuck this up.” Harry leaned in for a hug, embracing Ben, and then walked inside the house, disappearing from the cameras. The next man, some guy named Leon, climbed out of the limo, bouquet of flowers in hand. “Boo, you’re trying too fucking hard. Bring back the curly one!”

The episode continued and the cocktail party began. Ben went from room to room, introducing himself to each man, asking them all very basic questions about themselves, and Louis wanted to yank his hair out every time he couldn’t see Harry looming in the background. He was the only interesting one, the only one who captivated Louis’ attention, and Ben clearly felt the same way. He gave Harry the first impression rose, securing his safety for the upcoming elimination round, and when Harry broke out into a deep rooted smile while attaching the rose to his lapel, Louis all but slid off the couch, clutching his chest.

Apparently, Louis wasn’t the only one who fell in love with the dentist from San Fran. He quickly became the fan favorite, his name trending on all forms of social media every Monday night, and with each passing week, his popularity only grew. He went on a romantic helicopter ride with Ben on week two, sharing secrets about his past relationships and his ultimate goals for the future, and when Ben kissed him in front of the fire, Louis whined, forcing himself not to clap.

Week three brought a group date, in which Harry rode an electric bull and it made Ben laugh so hard, soda came out of his nose. During week four, they went dog sledding, and week five included a steamy makeout session in the hot tub overlooking some of Montana’s mountains.

By week six, Louis was looking up “Team Harry” t-shirts on his computer at work, and Zayn nearly choked on his coffee when he saw it.

“I don’t even have words for this anymore. You’re, like, extremely creepy.”

“I am  _ not. _ He just completely deserves to win. Heart of gold, this one. You can tell.”

“Louis. It’s a TV show. I’m sure that almost the entire thing is scripted.”

“Even so, Harry Styles should win. He’s a fucking catch. What kind of idiot would let him go?”

Five weeks later, Ben was that kind of idiot, apparently.

On the season’s finale, Ben chose Tristan, making Harry the runner-up, and Louis swore he could feel his heart actually shattering when Harry broke down in tears.

He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, his voice unsteady, the palm trees in their tropical location swaying in the background. “I really thought I was enough, you know?” he cried to the camera. “I thought we were it for each other. I guess  _ he _ was just it for  _ me. _ I feel so blind.”

Louis punched his pillows. “You  _ are _ enough! Oh my  _ God! _ America loves you!  _ I _ love you!”

“The Final Rose” interview aired directly after, in which host Chris Harrison talked to the contestants, saving Harry for last. “It’s been about eight weeks since that emotional day in Thailand.”

Harry nodded. “Eight weeks.”

“How has it been, getting over Ben?”

“Honestly, watching the show back helped immensely. I thought the entire time that what I had with Ben was so strong and so special, and it definitely was, to some extent. I loved him. But. Being able to see how much closer to Tristan he was, I understand that we wouldn’t have been the right match. Ben made the best decision for everyone. There are no hard feelings and I wish him the best with Tristan.”

The audience applauded and Chris smiled. “I’m sure he’d love to hear that. Should we bring Ben out?”

The crowd went wild again as Ben stepped out onto the studio’s floor, and he immediately went in for a hug. “Harry, you are so wonderful, such an incredible person. I just had a gut feeling we weren’t meant to be.”

Harry forced a smile. “I understand.”

“Whoever you end up with is going to be the luckiest. I really and truly believe that.”

“Thank you, Ben. That means a lot.”

Everyone in the studio clapped and whistled; Louis rolled his eyes. “At least be sincere, you blind prick. Tristan sucks. I can’t believe you let this guy walk away.”

The camera panned to Chris’ face. “Harry, I agree with Ben. Someone out there would kill to be with you.”

“Oh, God, I hope not.”

The audience laughed again and Chris smiled once more. “Hopefully, the men we pick out for you next season won’t actually commit crime to be with you.”

A girl who was blatantly planted in the audience stood up and cheered, “Does that mean Harry is the new bachelor?”

Chris gestured at Harry. “Care to share the news?”

Harry smirked and shrugged. “I’m the new bachelor, and I’m very,  _ very _ excited.”

The audience went  _ ballistic _ , and Louis immediately called Zayn before he started to tear up. “ _ Zayn. _ ”

“What do you want. It’s almost midnight.”

“Harry is the new bachelor.”

“Oh? Really?”

“Wait, why do you sound actually interested?”

“What, you jealous I’m gonna steal your man?”

“Shut up. Just. Be happy for me, for us, for the  _ world _ , that we get to watch the love of my life half naked on TV for the next 15 weeks.”

“Love of your life? Christ, you’re crazy.”

 

He may be crazy, but he isn’t as crazy as Zayn Malik, who tricked him into flying to LA for what he said was work related, when it was really, in fact, an audition to become a contestant on the bachelor. He made it through all three rounds, and when he found out he was chosen, he drove straight to Zayn’s house and punched him in the stomach. Hard.

“ _ That _ is for lying to me and forcing me to waste three vacation days to audition and for probably causing me to lose my job because how can I go away for four months to frolic on national television?!”

Zayn held onto his stomach. “You suck.”

Louis threw his head back and laughed. “That’s fucking rich.”

“Okay, look, we’ll talk to Lisa tomorrow and if she says she’ll replace you, you can back out of the show. But if she gives you the thumbs up, you should do it. It’s  _ Harry. _ ”

“Zayn. He’s a fucking television personality. He’s hot and sweet and works with kids. That’s all I know about him. I’m not uprooting my life to go meet some actor and pretend to fall in love. No one actually forms a real relationship. This entire thing is a sham. I am so fucking pissed that you kidnapped me and brought me there.”

“You didn’t have to audition! And why are you so sour about this show now?! You live for it!”

“Can you hear yourself?! I couldn’t just run out of the room once I realized where I was. I’m 28. I’m an adult. I had to act like one.” He clenched his fists. “And I love  _ watching _ it, not being  _ on _ it. For fuck’s sake.”

Zayn frowned. “I’m sorry. I am, alright? Let’s talk to Lisa tomorrow and we’ll see what she has to say.”

 

Somehow, Lisa was even stupider than the creator of the show itself, because she clapped her hands together and told Louis he  _ had _ to go. “Your job will be safe. You’re too valuable to lose. We’ll all be cheering for you!”

  
And after another two more brutal fist fights with Zayn, that’s how Louis Tomlinson ended up on a plane to Los Angeles with his bags packed to meet Harry Styles, the bachelor.


	2. The Journey

Louis just spent the last hour and a half getting ready for his close up - unsurprisingly, there were men who took significantly longer - and now that he has nothing to do or focus on, the nerves are starting to settle in. He’s standing amongst the other contestants, everyone a bit louder than necessary, and he just wants to get a move on, get the first night over with. Nothing about this has been fun so far, and every time he thinks about what he has to do over the course of the next ten hours - and ten weeks, give or take - he wants to rip Zayn’s limbs off.

He’s been giving himself a constant pep talk since he stepped off the plane. It’s an experience, a challenge, potentially, and is what it is. Louis wouldn’t be himself if he wasn’t up for it. If anything, he’ll meet some hopefully interesting people, he’ll get to gawk at Harry in real life, and if he makes it far enough, he’ll get to travel and see some new parts of the world. Added bonus, maybe he and Harry will flirt a little. Maybe they’ll have a good time.

Deep breaths, in and out. He’s going to make the best of it.

All 25 men gather in the studio about a mile away from the mansion before they enter their respective limos, each man trying to assert his dominance in one way or another, and the producers go over the ground rules whilst attaching mics to all of their dress shirts.

A woman in her early 30’s with jet black hair pulled into a tight bun stands before them. She’s holding a clipboard, has an earpiece dangling from her left ear, and her stance screams that she’s in charge, and comfortably so. Louis appreciates the hell out of that. Some of the other men visibly do not. Louis rolls his eyes. Good grief. “Hello, gentlemen, I’m Lydia.”

A collective  _ Hi, Lydia _ goes around the room and she smiles, flipping through the pages on her clipboard.

“All of the details for the first cocktail party were listed within your contract, but we’re going to briefly go over them again. To start, you will exit the limo the way we tell you to. If we ask you to jump out of the limo and sing a song, you will jump out of the limo and sing a song. Got it?”

Everyone in the room grumbles a  _ Yes, _ and Louis’ sure the look on his face is not pleasant.

Lydia continues. “Number two, for the first night only, we will tell you when it is your time to chat with Harry, or Harry will come get you himself. It gets too confusing with so many people running around and our cameras aren’t able to capture everything if we don’t know where anyone is. And I know you guys have probably seen men ask, ‘Can I steal you for a bit?’ Those are guys we’ve asked to do that, to stir it up a bit. You’ll be able to ‘steal’ all you want, but not the first night. We will guide you to where he is, the cameras will follow you, and you cannot directly look at them. Just at Harry. We will pull you away for interviews, and in the interview room, you will also be advised to not look directly at the cameras. Number three, the rose ceremony in which five of you will be eliminated will take place over a span of about 2-3 hours. It seems quick on TV, but we have to make sure we get every shot at every angle. Also, it would be impossible for Harry to remember all of your names, so we have him say two names at a time, and then we stop filming to give him two more names. And fourth, this cocktail party will most likely go until sunrise. It usually does. Be prepared for that. Alright, have fun!”

Louis knows his jaw is hanging open slightly - he can’t find the strength to close it - and he has a new surge of anger towards Zayn. On TV, this all looks so simple and flawless. In real life, it’s like surgery, and Louis has zero experience in the operating room.

Basically, this sucks, and he’s already so, so tired.

An older man who’s wearing an old, faded black Polo approaches Louis and starts hooking him up to a mic, which he tucks inside of Louis’ jacket and turns it on. “Alright,” he says, “I’m Dale. I’ll be in the interview room just about 90% of the time. If you have any questions, you can come to me about it.”

Louis nods. “Okay.”

“We’re gonna start your first interview now. Let’s head this way.”

Louis nods again. “Okay,” he repeats.

They walk down a corridor and enter a small room, candles flickering everywhere, an aggressive amount of flowers in glass vases, and the lights that are shining on the chair are nearly blinding. Louis takes a seat and squints at the small group of people standing before him.

“Louis, sit up straight and tall, put your feet on the X of tape on the floor, and we’ll tell you when to begin talking. Just read directly from the cue cards.” The look on Louis’ face must be a combination of shock and disgust because Dale backtracks immediately. “The entire show isn’t this scripted. Just the first week. This is just kind of a formality, and everyone will be asked the same questions. It’s just easier for us to hold up cue cards. This way, we don’t have to repeat ourselves a thousand times in one night.”

Louis relaxes, his shoulders slumping a bit. “Alright, that’s better. I thought you were trying to turn me into a robot.”

Dale smiles. “Just a little bit. The further you get, the more freedom you have.”

It makes sense, but Louis still hates it. Instead of voicing his displeasure, he simply says, “Okay,” for the third time. “Let’s do it.”

A woman next to the camera holds up the first cue card. “Whenever you’re ready, Louis.”

He straightens his back and looks at the words on the poster. It’s just some basic information with blank lines, which he assumes he’s supposed to fill in as he talks. Okay, that’s not so bad. “My name is Louis Tomlinson, I’m 28 years old, and I’ve been living in Chicago for the past 10 years, but I’m from London. I work for an advertising firm.” He looks down at his hands and then back up again. “I never thought in a million years I would end up on  _ The Bachelor _ as a contestant. I guess that’s what happens when you have a friend who meddles, yeah?”

Dale stops the recording. “Louis, tells us about your friend and why they convinced you to enter.” He hits record again, and the red light lights up once more.

“My friend from back home listened to me rave about Harry for the entire duration of last season and thought this would be a good idea, for whatever reason. It’s definitely out of my comfort zone but…” He trails off and looks to Dale, who’s waving his hands, encouraging him to go on. “But I’m getting really excited about it.” That part isn’t actually fabricated and doesn’t feel scripted.

The producers must feel the same because they they turn off the camera again. “Awesome, Louis. Thank you. If you exit the room and head back down in the main hall, there will be someone down there who should direct you to your limo. You’re all set to head to the mansion.”

Louis tries to ignore the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. It’s a TV show. None of this is real. None of it is even  _ live. _ Relax. “Great, thanks.”

He makes his way back to the front of the building and is directed out the door, instructed to head to limo number three. There are four other men in line with him; two he would never glance twice at, one that reminds him a lot of Zayn (meaning there is zero attraction at all), and the fourth is his type exactly. Tall, soft smile, wavy hair. Actually, he looks a lot like Harry.

One of the producers is also in the limo with them, and once they’re seated inside and pulling out of the lot, she begins to give them more instructions. Louis is already having trouble focusing, fidgeting with the buttons on his jacket, and they’ve barely even started yet.

“I’m Jackie, nice to meet you all, let’s go over this quickly. First out of the limo will be Michael, followed by Derek. You’re both all set with your entrances, right?”

The Zayn lookalike and Ugly #1 both nod.

“Excellent,” Jackie says. “Jay, you’ll go after Derek, and you can read your poem.”

“It’s in my pocket,” Jay says, patting his left breast pocket. Louis resists the urge to snort.

“Evan, you’ll go fourth, followed by Louis.”

Evan, Harry’s prototype, smiles. “Sounds great. Do you have the flowers?”

“Yes, they’re up front.”

Louis wrings his hands together. “So, like, am I just gonna wing it? No tricks for me?” he asks her.

Jackie nods. “You don’t need any gimmicks to make you stand out to the viewers. Not with that accent.”

He blushes and purses his lips together. “Thanks, love.” He watches as Michael whispers something to Derek, and based on the way they’re both staring at Louis, he knows whatever he said wasn’t a compliment. He’s about to call them out on it - let the drama start before the show even does - when the limo stops moving. Louis turns away from the men in the car and looks out the window, and if he actually feels shorts of breath, he will  _ never _ admit it.

Harry is standing at the start of the walkway, his hands clasped in front of him, eyes shining. His suit is fitted impeccably, accentuating every inch of his body, and Louis cannot believe he looks even better in real life than he does on his hi-def TV at home. His curls are tighter, his smile is brighter, and Louis  _ knows _ that if this was a real life situation and they met at a bar in downtown Chicago, Louis would be flirting mercilessly to try to get a drink or two out of Harry.

He swallows audibly.  _ It’s just a TV show. _

“Michael, out you go,” Jackie demands, gesturing toward the door. He steps out, and Louis nearly pushes his nose up against the door window to watch their interaction, fogging up the glass with his breath.

Michael stands before Harry and gets on one knee, reaching for Harry’s hand. Harry throws his head back and laughs, and Louis can’t stand how fake this whole setup is. Thank God for his accent, a saving grace, because otherwise  _ he _ might be the asshole out there right now, fake proposing.

After that disaster is over - in which Harry smiled the whole time, what a good sport - Derek exits the limo and dances his way over to Harry. It’s horribly cheesy, but at least it’s not as uncomfortable as the cringeworthy proposal everyone just had to witness.

Jay goes next, reading a short poem that Louis can’t hear, and Evan grabs his bouquet of flowers - red and white roses - when it’s his turn. Louis anxiously tries to come up with something witty to say while he watches Jay and Harry engage, angry at himself for not practicing this earlier; it’s a made up reality TV show, but it’s going to air on national television. Fuck. He has to at least play the part so he doesn’t  _ completely _ humiliate himself. Christ, his entire family is going to watch this.

Why didn’t the producers give him  _ any _ material?! There’s only so far a foreign accent can take you.

He’s trying to sort out his breathing, thinking of slow and painful ways to murder Zayn for when he goes back home, and he nearly jumps when Jackie puts her hand on Louis’ shoulder.

“You alright?”

He nods. “I’m good. Just overwhelmed.”

“It happens. You have about five minutes to relax and then it’ll be your turn to head out. Some of the crew just has to spray down the driveway first.”

Louis peers out the window. “Why?”

“When the water hits the lights, it sparkles and looks more magical.”

“Jesus, that is a new level of pretentious douchery if I’ve ever heard it.”

She laughs. “Hey, I don’t call the shots, here. I just yell at you guys to get your asses out of the limo and look pretty.”

“I’ll try my best.”

The driveway gets a thorough hose down and Louis taps his fingers nervously on his thigh, wishing he was already inside the mansion, not being forced to sit and wait and get sweatier with every passing second. And after what feels like a small eternity, Jackie says, “Alright, they’re done. You can head out now.”

Louis takes a deep breath and exhales loudly. He still doesn’t have anything clever to say, doesn’t know where he’s supposed to look when he gets out of the limo, doesn’t know if he should hug Harry or shake his hand, doesn’t know if he should play it coy or tell him he’s here because of Harry himself.

Well. He’s here because of Zayn, but that’s neither here nor there.

He rolls his shoulders and shakes out his hands, stepping out of the limo cautiously, wracking his brain for something to say,  _ anything _ to say. He brushes his hair out of his eyes, hoping his nerves aren’t written all across his face, and has to actively remind himself not to stick his hands in his pockets, a habit he’s acquired for when he’s uncomfortable. But then he looks up, and there stands Harry, staring at him intently, crooked smile on his face, dimple out.

“Wow,” he mouths to Louis, briefly squeezing his eyes shut, bouncing on his feet.

Louis’ legs feel like rubber as he tries to make his way over to Harry; he knows his cheeks are red and he desperately tries to think of anything other than the fact that his first ever interaction with Harry Styles is currently being recorded to air on national TV, but he’s fairly unsuccessful.

He clears his throat once he’s standing directly in front of Harry. He looks up and Harry’s gaze is so steady, Louis is almost positive that Harry can read his thoughts. “I’m Louis, and I’m afraid I don’t have any gimmicks for you.”

Harry looks down at the ground and laughs. “Oh, and he has an  _ accent. _ Cut me some slack. You definitely don’t need a gimmick, Louis. You are… Wow.”

Louis smirks. “Yes, I am wow. That is my profession, actually.”

“Professional wower?”

“Indeed.”

They’re both grinning like idiots and it’s so fucking stupid, teetering on unbearable, almost, but Harry can’t seem to rip his eyes away from Louis’ face and Louis doesn’t really want him to, anyway.

Harry reaches out and grips his elbow. “Other than wowing, what do you do?”

“I work in advertising.”

“Oh, that’s interesting.”

“No, it really isn’t. One shouldn’t lie so early on, Harry.”

Harry laughs again and Louis loves the sound of it, loves that it’s for him,  _ loves _ that his hand is still touching Louis’ elbow. “I’m not lying! I honestly wanted to go into advertising for the longest time.”

“But then you became a dentist instead. Those aren’t even remotely similar, how’d you choose that one?” Louis backtracks, making a face. “Probably creepy that I’m bringing up the fact that I know what you do for a living and you don’t even know my last name yet.”

He smirks. “I take it you watched the show last season?”

Louis swallows. “Yeah. Why else do you think I’m here? I wouldn’t have flown across the country for just anyone,” he murmurs, letting it slip out before he even knows what’s happening.

“If I wasn’t feeling lucky before, I’m definitely feeling pretty lucky right about now.”

Louis wants to laugh in his face, because  _ Harry _ is the one that’s here to choose from 25 gorgeous men from all over the country; he has it made. But Harry is looking at him so sincerely, he can’t muster up any sarcasm or jokes. Instead, he just chokes out, “Tomlinson. My last name. It’s Tomlinson.”

“Louis Tomlinson, it’s been my pleasure to meet you,” Harry says, voice hushed.

He nods. “Likewise.” He can see one of the producers over Harry’s shoulder, motioning that Louis needs to wrap up. “I’ll, uh, see you inside?”

“Most definitely.” He pulls Louis in by the elbow, wrapping his arms around him briefly, and when he pulls back, his smile is reaching his eyes, genuine and sweet.

Louis smiles back and starts his walk inside the mansion, stepping over the puddles that have accumulated from the hose within the dips between the stones and bricks on the walkway. He can feel Harry’s gaze still on him, and he fails to ignore how damp his palms are. He blames his jittery movements on the fact that he’s being recorded, that he’s filming for a TV show, not because of Harry. It’s not because of Harry.  _ It’s not because of Harry _ .

He’s pissed that he’s already losing at his own game.

Or maybe he’s winning. He isn’t entirely positive.   
  


* * *

The mansion is exactly what Louis expected: over-the-top big, noisy, and in your face.

That goes for the actual structure, as well as the people inside it.

Now that he’s less nervous and the hard part is over, Louis can actually gawk at the other contestants and determine who his competition is, who he thinks he’d get along with, who he kind of wants to punch out. And looking around the room, it seems like it’s split 50/50.

He settles in on the red, velvet - seriously? - couch in between Evan from the limo and another guy he hasn’t met yet. The guy holds out his hand. “I’m Cam.”

Louis reaches for it and grabs. “Louis.”

“Oh,  _ you’re _ the Brit.”

He laughs. “That’d be me.”

“I’ve heard about you.”

“Already? We’ve been here for, like, eight and a half minutes.”

Cam smiles. “Word travels fast.”

“Apparently.”

They fall into a relaxed silence and Louis is happy to observe. Drinks are being passed around, music is playing from outside on the terrace, and then, all at once, everyone gets to their feet, whistling and clapping as Harry enters the room.

It’s uncomfortable, honestly, that all 25 men are acting like Harry is the last single man on earth, that he’s the greatest thing to have ever graced the planet, but then Louis remembers that there are cameras on them still, filming their every move and reaction, and he doesn’t want to be  _ that _ dick already, the guy who acts like this entire thing is ridiculous (which it is) and he’s better than the process (which he might be). He keeps that in mind as he, too, climbs to his feet, and tries not to feel like a total idiot for clapping for some guy he hardly knows, just because he’s standing there and smiling.

Harry smiles and holds up his own flute of champagne. “Thank you all so much for being here. I’m still in disbelief that there is a group of people that actually came here to date  _ me. _ I’m very honored to be a part of this experience and I’m excited to get to know you all. Cheers to you all,” he says, taking a sip.

“Cheers,” the rest of the room murmurs out.

Louis wants to tip his head back and drain the entire glass to escape how awkward this is, that everyone is looking at Harry like he’s a slab of meat. He glances around the room and then back at Harry, and Harry’s gaze is already locked on his face. It makes Louis a little squirmy to be the only person under Harry’s attention, so he jokingly blows a kiss to break the tension. Harry’s grin grows, and even though Louis hasn’t looked away from Harry yet, he knows everyone in the room is staring.

He’s about to approach Harry, ask him if he wants to head outside to the patio together, when Tall, Dark, and Handsome beats him to the punch. Harry smiles and they squeeze past the rest of the men, making their way outside.

 

The rest of the night goes by a lot more seamlessly than Louis expected it to. There’s always some drunken drama when he watches it on TV, but this group seems to be exceptionally mellow. He takes an immediate liking to Cam from the couch, a guy named Blake who also lives in Chicago, and an actual farmer from down south named Elliott. They hang out together in the bonus room, laughing over a game of pool and a round of drinks, and by the time it’s two in the morning, Louis is considerably less tense and, for the first time,  _ excited _ to be in his situation.

He won’t tell Zayn that, though.

He’s lining up to take his final shot when the rest of the group stands up a little straighter, exclaiming a forced, “Hi, Harry!” all at once.

Louis looks up, pool stick still in his hand, and sees Harry standing by the door, camera crew trailing behind. “Hey, Styles.”

Harry smirks. “Wanna head outside with me for a bit?”

The rest of the guys seem to deflate a bit at Harry’s request and Louis cocks his hip. “Mind if I finish my last shot first?”

“Seriously, Louis?” Elliott asks.

“Yes. I’m about to win and you can suck on it.”

Harry smiles. “Be my guest, go ahead.”

Louis bends down and closes one eye, focusing. He pulls back his arm, ready to release, and as he shoots, someone kicks him in the back of the knee, making him completely miss the eight ball.

“What the fuck?!”

Cam laughing. “I  _ knew _ you’d be a sore loser.”

“You son of a bitch.” He straightens his back and stretches. “Alright, well, Harry, I guess I’ll settle for hanging out with you instead.”

He snorts. “I appreciate the hardship.”

As Harry guides him outside, he can hear someone from the other room mumble, “You’d think he’d be kissing Harry’s ass. What a dick.” Louis doesn’t think Harry heard it and plans to ignore it, himself, but he grabs Louis’ elbow and says, “I enjoy the chase, a bit.”

Louis winks. “My speciality.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

They walk down winding, granite stairs and settle in together on an outdoor couch seated in front of a fire pit. It’s hot, but it feels nice. The smell of the burning ash is comforting.

“Alright. Louis Tomlinson.”

Louis raises a brow. “You remembered my full name?”

“I did.” He places his hands on his lap. “So, where are you from?”

He waves his hands in the air, trying to remember Lydia’s warning to not stare directly at the camera beside them. “Yeah, let’s cover all that boring shit first.” Harry laughs, his shoulders relaxing. “Well, I currently live in Chicago, but I’m from London, or the outskirts, rather. My entire family is still there, and I’m fortunate that I can typically make one or two trips a year back over there to see them. Or, I try to, anyway. I actually haven’t been at all for about a year. Flights have been too expensive and my job has been picking up and, yeah. Sucks, but. It is what it is.”

“Ah, shitty that you haven’t been back in a while.”

“Yeah, that part kind of blows.”

“But it’s great that you can typically go home so often. What brought you to Chicago?”

“I applied to school there on a whim, thinking it’d be cool if I got in, and then they offered me a major scholarship. I couldn’t turn it down. Then I fell in love with the city, the people, and decided to stay there.”

“I’m sure your family was pleased.”

“Absolutely. I think my mum’s words were, ‘Excellent, because nothing makes me happier than having my firstborn live halfway across the world. Don’t come back. You’re disowned.’”

Harry laughs. “I can’t imagine leaving my family. My mom would probably have a very similar reaction.”

“It’s been nice, though. A good change. And it makes me appreciate them more when I get the chance to see them. Limited time, and all that.”

“Are you close to your siblings?”

Louis nods. “Surprisingly, yes, considering they’re all significantly younger than me, are all girls, and don’t even live on the same continent.”

“All girls?”

“Yep. Five sisters.” He shakes his head. “Oh, and one brother.”

“Do you often forget you have a brother?”

He shrugs. “Easy mistake. I can hardly remember my own name, never mind what I have for siblings. My own mother calls me Will sometimes. If she can’t remember her kids, why should I?”

“Who’s Will?”

“I have no idea.”

Harry laughs, the infamous dimple coming alive, and Louis wants to push his thumb into it. “He’s your twin that she gave away at birth.”

“That wouldn’t surprise me. I have two sets of twins within my siblings. Add a third, why not.”

“Seriously?”

“Mhm.”

“Those are some impressive genes, Tomlinson.”

“Don’t tell me. Tell my mum.”

They chat for a while longer, and Louis is surprised by how easy it is. He won’t say that sparks are flying, because, realistically, they’re strangers, and that doesn’t ever really happen, but it  _ does _ feel like chatting with an old friend, and Louis  _ loves _ that. He feels comfortable, doesn’t feel out of place when Harry rests his palm on his knee, feels natural to lean into it. Nothing is forced. It’s a calming feeling, and based on Harry’s demeanor, it seems to be mutual.

They’re talking about pizza toppings (“Harry, it’s crucial to know what you put on a pizza, because if you like Hawaiian pizza, we can consider this entire thing done.”) when Lydia heads over to them from around the corner.

“Alright, guys, time’s up. Harry, I need you to wrap up and meet James in the kitchen. He’s gonna start prepping you for the rose ceremony.”

Harry nods and squeezes Louis’ thigh. “I have to do something first,” he replies, still touching Louis, not really taking his eyes off of him.

Lydia sighs. “We still have to  _ start _ the damn ceremony and it’s already past three in the morning. Slowest man alive, I swear.”

He smiles. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” He gets up and walks away, leaving Louis, awkward and alone with the camera crew, jogging back into sight only moments later. He’s holding his hand behind his back, and Louis instantly knows he’s getting the first impression rose. It’s so beyond cheesy, but his face feels hot and his stomach swoops, anyway.

“Whatcha got there, Styles?”

Harry smirks and sits back down, hand still behind his back. “You were the first and only person out of the limo that  _ actually _ took my breath away, and as it turns out, you aren’t  _ just _ gorgeous.” He smirks, shy. I’m really excited about getting to know more about you.” He holds out the rose, perfectly red with little droplets of water around the edges. Absurd. “Will you accept this rose?”

Louis bites down on his bottom lip. “I think I’d be pretty stupid not to, don’t you think?”

“You can do whatever you want, Lou.”

It’s too early for a nickname and Louis doesn’t care. “I’ll take it. Yes. Thank you.”

“No, thank  _ you. _ ” He pins the rose to Louis’ lapel, and it looks really fucking good.

 

The rose ceremony takes forever - they don’t finish until nearly seven in the morning - and Louis is dead tired by the end of it. He can’t think of anything other than ripping off his shoes, throwing on a sweatshirt, and sliding into that tiny bunk bed on the second floor of the mansion. It’s practically calling his name.

Five men go home, and Louis is automatically safe, thanks to the first impression rose, and it feels brilliant to know that Harry Styles saw something in him, saw enough to want to keep him around for at least another week.

The remaining men don’t seem to care for him as much as Harry does, but in all honesty, Louis doesn’t get sweaty palms when any of  _ them _ look at him, so he doesn’t care in the slightest.

The mattress is rock solid and it’s the best night’s sleep he’s ever had.   
  


* * *

The first date card arrives early the next morning. Sean comes prancing into the living room, waving the envelope around in the air.

“Look what I’ve got,” he sings out.

The other 19 men, Louis included, settle in on the couch and various chairs as they watch Sean rip open the seal.

“Who’s going?” Cole asks.

Sean clears his throat. “Louis. Let’s take our relationship to new heights. Harry.”

Louis’ cheeks burn as he can feel 19 pairs of eyes on him at once. “Welp, looks like I’ve just gone from hated to most hated in a matter of seconds.”

A few men let out chuckles; most are silent and don’t give him the satisfaction of laughing. Brock, however, speaks up. “You get the first impression rose  _ and _ the first date. A little dick of you, man.”

He holds up his hands. “You say that accusingly.”

“So?”

“I have  _ nothing _ to do with any of that. If you want to be annoyed, voice it with Harry. Not me.”

Brock rolls his neck and stands up. He’s  _ massive. _ But before either of them can say anything else, Cam jumps in.

“Hey, Lou, come outside with me?”

He nods. “Sure thing.” He turns to Brock, smiles sweetly, and rips the envelope out of his hands before he even has a chance to react.

It’s hot outside, and it’s something Louis is still getting used to; London is dreary and Chicago is nothing but wind. LA is still, warm, and sunny. It’s gorgeous, but different.

Cam leans against the railing of the deck and squints when the sun hits his face. “They’re just jealous,” he says.

“I’m not really bothered by it. No one’s gonna like the guy that has the first connection, yeah? It just happened to be me.”

He purses his lips together. “It’s because you aren’t trying too hard.”

“Or trying at all, really.”

Cam laughs. “Just naturally charismatic.”

“Sounds about right.” He drums his fingers along the railing. “I dunno. This process is weird. I feel like being overly romantic right in the beginning is stupid. He’s essentially a stranger. Why would I want to try to be over-the-top and try to impress him so early on? It screams desperation. I’m just trying to have a little fun, you know?”

“Mmm.  _ The Bachelor _ kind of  _ is _ a show made up about desperation, though.”

Louis smiles. “True.”

Cam grabs the envelope from Louis’ hand. “So, new heights. Where do you think you’re going?”

“Oh my God.” The blood drains from Louis’ face. “I didn’t even think of what. Wait. Cameron. I’m gonna be stranded on some fucking ridiculous tower, aren’t I?”

“I’d say so, Rapunzel.”

“No, fuck off, I’m, like, deathly afraid of heights.”

The look on his face must be that of sheer panic, because Cam bursts out laughing, immediately covering his face with his hands. “Oh, Christ, Louis. I’m sorry. Just. Don’t look down.”   
  


* * *

Harry pulls up to the mansion in a red convertible two hours later. The group of men head outside to greet him, and Louis trails behind in the back of the pack. He doesn’t need to be the first out there, not when he’s the one about to spend the day with Harry, all alone.

Plus 12-15 crew members. And eventually, the entire United States. But, that’s just semantics.

Harry’s leaning against the car, gold rimmed aviators sitting on the bridge of his nose, black skinny jeans, and a t-shirt. Casual. It makes Louis feel better about his own choice of Vans.

“Hi, everyone,” Harry calls out, smiling.

A few of the ballsier guys jog over to him and lean in for a hug, telling Harry how good he looks. Louis’ sunglasses are dark enough that he doesn’t have to hold back his eyeroll.

“It’s great to see everyone! I hope you’ve all been having fun. The mansion is amazing, right?”

Everyone hollers and claps; Louis nudges Cam. “And they say nothing about this is scripted,” he mumbles under his breath. Cam shoves him back and tells him to shut up.

“So. Louis?” Harry peers over everyone’s head, looking for him, and Louis steps to the side.

“Hey, Styles.”

“You ready?”

Louis nods, walking toward the convertible. “Yeah, let’s do this. Sick car, by the way.”

“Don’t get used to it. We’re just borrowing it to head to the helicopter pad.” His smile is devilish, and Louis wants to throw up. “Ever been in a helicopter before?”

“Does it  _ look _ like I’ve ever been in a helicopter?” He’s aware it probably comes off nasty, especially based on the way someone behind him whispers,  _ Is he serious? _ But he doesn’t care. He’s completely petrified.

Harry must be able to tell, because he takes a step forward and grabs Louis’ hand. “Hey. It’ll be fun. I promise. We won’t be on it for that long. It’s just a better alternative than driving for five hours to our destination.”

Louis doesn’t say that he disagrees with that. “Where are we going?”

He smiles. “My hometown.”

He whistles. “Moving a little quickly to meet the family, huh?”

“I didn’t invite them today,” he says with a laugh. “Just us.”

“Okay, then. Just us. Let’s go.”

“Perfect.” Harry drops Louis’ hand. “Alright, everyone, I’ll see you all later!”

There’s a chorus of goodbyes as Harry opens Louis’ door for him. He slides in, touching all the buttons and knobs on the dash, and with a honk of the horn, they’re off.

 

Louis relaxes significantly as they whip down the highway, his messy hair getting messier, Harry’s hand on his thigh. His palm is warm and he’s comforted when Harry tells him not to be nervous, that he’ll take care of him.

Louis believes him. Sort of.

When they arrive at the lot, Harry put the car into park and stalls for a minute. “Okay, I have a confession to make.”

He raises a brow. “Oh, yeah? Should I guess?”

Harry smirks. “If you want to.”

“You’re secretly married.”

He scratches his jaw, pretending to think. “Uh, nope. Not that.”

“You’re really a woman.”

Harry laughs. “I can promise you that I am not.”

Louis waggles his eyebrows and Harry laughs again. “We’re not really going to San Fran. You’re kidnapping me and I’m your prisoner. Actually, come to think of it, that might be more fun. Let’s play that later.”

“Oh my God, you’re the worst ever at this game. Can I just tell you?”

“If you want to spoil all the fun, sure.”

Harry rolls his eyes but Louis can tell he isn’t really annoyed. “I knew giving you the first date after giving you the first impression rose would cause tension in the house between you and the other guys.”

“So, their dagger stares were obvious to you, too, huh.”

He nods. “I figured it would be an issue. But. Like. I’m nervous, too. This is a new experience for me, being on this end of things, and I’m still trying to figure everything out. And on the first night, you made me feel  _ way _ better, much less on edge, so I picked you first for the date on purpose. I wanted to be relaxed going into this. And I knew you were the best choice for that. I apologize if you get backlash for it, though.”

That was  _ not _ what he’d expected him to say at all. “Wow, Harry. That’s. That’s really flattering. It’s very sweet you feel that way.”

“I’m not trying to be sweet. I’m trying to be honest.” He unbuckles his seatbelt and pushes open the door. “Let’s go have fun. This will be good.”

Louis climbs out, too. “You’re the boss. Let’s do this.” He slams the door shut. “Oh, and Harry?”

“Lou.”

He smiles. “Thanks.”

“For…”

“For trusting your instincts, which told you that I was amazing.”

Harry laughs and rolls his eyes again. “I take it back. I’m gonna go back and get someone else.”

“Good, then I don’t have to get in that damn helicopter.”

“Baby, that’s the  _ easy _ part of today,” he says with a wink.

Oh. So  _ this _ is what hell feels like.

Once he’s able to get over his initial panic and fear and abundance of sweat, the helicopter isn’t nearly as bad as he’d anticipated. He has to close his eyes through the majority of it, but it mostly feels like an airplane. An extremely tiny, crowded, hot airplane.

Okay, the anxiety is back.

He grips Harry’s hand across the seat and Harry laces their fingers on instinct, and Louis squeezes hard, needing something to keep him grounded and to reassure him. Every so often Harry drags his thumb across Louis’ knuckle, almost like a gentle reminder that he’s still there. It’s working, just as long as Louis doesn’t look out the window and down.

He takes a deep breath, listening to himself through his headphones. He concentrates on that, until Harry pulls his hand away and drags his fingers across the inside of Louis’ thigh. He cracks open his left eye. “Can I help you?”

“Louis, I know you’re terrified, and you’re doing  _ so _ well, and as soon as we land I’m going to make a joke about how quiet you’ve been and how much I enjoyed it, but I don’t want you to miss this view. You’ll regret it if you don’t see what we’re flying over right now.”

“I highly doubt that,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Please. Real quick, and then you can close your eyes again. And we can take a train back home later, if that’s what you want, I promise.”

“Okay, Styles, this better be worth it.” He takes a deep breath and looks out Harry’s window. It’s. He’s speechless. “Harry.”

“I  _ know _ .”

They’re hovering over the Golden Gate Bridge, looking at it from an angle that Louis never imagined possible, and it’s breathtaking. The fog forming at the very peak makes everything look a bit distorted, but not enough so that they can’t see the structure itself or the ocean below.

“It’s unreal,” Louis murmurs. “Tell me we’re stopping here so I can stare at it some more, preferably like a normal tourist on the ground.”

“Oh, I’ll do you one better.”

Louis sits back. “What’s that now?”

“Don’t freak out.”

“Harry.”

“You’ll love it once we get to the top, I swear.”

“The top of  _ what, _ and you better tread very lightly here, pal.”

Harry smiles. “The harness will be secure, and you’ll have a helmet, of course.”

“What in God’s name are you trying to get me to do, because I can already tell you the answer is a big, fat no.”

“We’re climbing the to the top of the Golden Gate Bridge.”

“Is that even legal?!”

“It is today.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“ _ No. _ ”

“Louis, please. I wanted to do this date with you specifically. The producers tried to get me to save this date until at least week three but I begged for it. And with you.”

Louis groans. “But why?!”

“Because I’m nervous, too, I told you, and I wanted to be there with you, doing it together. And I couldn’t wait until week three to get you alone.”

He groans again, louder this time. “Ugh. Fuck.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Closest thing to a yes you’re gonna get.”

Harry stupidly pumps his fist in the air. “Thank you.”

“I’m about to make this the most painful first date you’ve ever been on in your  _ life. _ ”

He smiles and tucks his curls behind his ear. It gets caught in the headphones; Louis shakes his head. “And I’m gonna love every minute this painful date of ours,” Harry says, reaching for Louis’ hand again.

“You’d better.”   
  


* * *

Standing at the bottom of the bridge doesn’t hold a moment of peace for Louis. Normally, as a tourist, he’d like to take the time to appreciate the view in front of him, take some photos,  _ relax. _

Today, however, he doesn’t get the chance to do any of these things. Rather, he’s being strapped into a helmet with a camera attached to it and he nearly has to be wrangled into his harness. He can tell Harry’s trying not to laugh at his expense, but his cracked smile says otherwise.

Louis looks up at the sheer volume of this structure. It’s absolutely massive and he has to close his eyes against the sunlight when he tries to see it in its entirety. He audibly swallows and taps his foot against the ground, a nervous habit.

Lydia signals for him to stand by her while Harry gets ready. “Quick interview. You ready?”

“Sure, sure.”

“Sweet.” She positions him in front of the camera and makes sure his mic is turned on. “How are you feeling right now? Put the question in your answer, please.”

He wraps his arms around himself. “I am currently feeling extremely anxious. Ever since we took off in that damn copter, I’ve been pretty on edge. I am  _ not _ a fan of heights, and I’m kind of hating Harry for this date right about now.” He realizes he sounds pretty ungrateful, and  _ definitely _ like a whiny dick, so he tries to backtrack. “But all of my unyielding fear aside, I’m excited to spend the day with Harry. I know the rest of the day will be fun, just as long as I don’t pass out at the top, or anything. He’s been great so far. A trooper, for letting me squeeze his hand so hard in the helicopter. Someone might wanna check to see if I broke any of his bones. Seriously.”

Harry laughs in the background. “My hands are fine. You ready?”

“No, but I don’t think I have a choice.” His foot is still tapping, the gravel beneath his shoes crunching and shifting.

“Hey.” Harry walks over, brows furrowed, expression dead serious. Two cameramen trail behind. “Scale of 1-10, how genuinely afraid of heights are you?”

Louis bites on his bottom lip. “Uh. Like, a 8.5, probably. Maybe a nine.”

“Okay.” He stares at Louis. “We don’t have to do this. I know it’ll be incredible and it’s kind of a once in a lifetime opportunity, one that I wanted to do with you. But that kind of fear won’t allow you to enjoy it. We can back out if you want. There are plenty of things we can do today. Just say the word, and we’ll be done here. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, Lou. I’m not going to force you to do something that makes you do  _ that _ with your hands.”

He looks down and sees his hands curled up into fists; he hadn’t realized he was doing it. He unclenches and immediately, all of his muscles relax, already sore from the tension. “You’re understanding. And really, really accommodating.”

“I’m trying to be. If someone asked me to sit in a room filled with bunnies, even if it was a once in a lifetime opportunity, I’d laugh in their faces and say ‘Thank God.’”

Louis smirks. “Bunnies? Really?”

“They hiss! They’re so scary! Why does no one agree with me?!”

He laughs. “I didn’t know they hissed. Game changer.” He takes a step closer to Harry and meets his gaze. “I’m, like, super freaked out by this, yeah? But I can tell how badly you want to do it.”

“ _ With _ you. Not alone.”

“Right. With me.” He takes a deep breath. “I’ll try it.”

“Seriously?”

He nods. “Yeah. But if it gets to be too much, can we come back down? And not force me to climb to the top?”

“Absolutely. This is your game, Louis. Your rules.”

“I like the sound of that.”

Harry smiles. “I thought you would. Alright. When you’re ready. There’s an instructor at the bottom who’s gonna give us some guidelines.”

Breathe in, breathe out. “Ready.”

They head down the path together, and Louis is just barely aware of the camera crew behind them. And although out of the ordinary and extravagant, it’s almost starting to feel like a real first date, vomit-inducing nerves and all.

 

The instructor, Cooper, tells them that this is completely safe, and that hundreds of people a day climb the Golden Gate Bridge. It’s a huge tourist attraction, and the only reason there’s no one on the bridge today is because they shut it down just for Harry and Louis.

“You have nothing to be afraid of. The harnesses will be attached to the building directly, and honestly, the hardest part will be walking up at such an incline. No one ever mentions the height. Generally speaking, people seem most annoyed about the fact that they’re essentially climbing a stairmaster, and that they just paid to do an aggressive workout when they thought they would be sightseeing.”

Harry laughs; Louis wants to light himself on fire.

“Okay, let’s get you two set up, and then you can get going. Have fun!”

Louis turns to face Harry. “Oh, right, let’s have fun,” he mocks.

Harry claps his hands together. “That’s the spirit!”

“Sense the tone.”

“I’m  _ ignoring _ the tone. Come on, baby.”

It’s the second time he’s called him ‘baby’ - not that Louis is keeping track - and he knows Harry’s only saying it to loosen him up, or just to play with him. Either way, he isn’t against it and he tries to act like he doesn’t care. His blush says otherwise.

They stand together at the very bottom and Louis watches helplessly as Cooper attaches his harness to the side of the railing. “No one has ever died doing this, right?”

“Nah! Not on my watch, anyway.”

“Perfect,” he replies, voice void of any emotion.

Before Cooper can attach Harry, Harry grabs Louis’ elbow. “Do you want to walk in front, or me to?”

“I want you in front. I don’t want to have to lead.”

“Okay.”

Cooper starts to attach Harry’s harness in front of Louis’, and Louis decides that won’t do. “No, wait. I want you behind me. To catch me if I slip or something.”

Harry smiles. “I can do that.”

Once they’re both attached, Louis forces his knees to stop shaking, hoping they don’t buckle out from underneath him, and slowly makes his way to the entryway. As long as he doesn’t look up, he’s fine.

Or down. Or to his left. Or right.

Oh God.

“One step at a time, Louis. You’re okay.”

“Patience, Harry.”

He doesn’t have to turn around to know that Harry’s smiling behind him. “Take your time.”

“I plan to.”

The first 20 feet aren’t so hard, and neither are the 20 after that, but then the wind starts to pick up. Louis grips onto the railing like a lifeline, imagining he can actually feel the bridge swaying beneath his feet. He closes his eyes and stills his movements completely.

“You still doing okay so far?” Harry asks, chin hooked over Louis’ shoulder.

He nods. “Just. Give me a sec.”

“You can have all the secs you want.” He pauses. “Ha.”

Louis snorts. “Didn’t realize I was on a date with a 10-year-old.”

“Don’t pretend you hate it.”

The wind slows down and Louis feels like he can breathe again. “Okay, moving forward.”

They continue to climb, and as long as Louis focuses on the task at hand, not allowing his mind to drift to the fact that he’s making his way up a 220 feet structure, he can manage. But then.

“Harry, what the fuck is this.”

There’s a sign nailed to the railing in front of him, and it reads,  **CRISIS COUNSELING. THERE IS HOPE. MAKE THE CALL. THE CONSEQUENCES OF JUMPING FROM THIS BRIDGE ARE FATAL AND TRAGIC.**

“Ah, Christ, that’s awful. But, great that they put that up. Maybe it’s saved a life.”

“ _ Harry, _ ” he repeats, “people have jumped off of this from this spot. To die.”

“That’s what it seems like.”

“If we fall from here, we’re dead, too. Oh, God, I hate this.”

He feels Harry’s hands on his waist, and Louis nearly screams at the fact that Harry isn’t hanging onto the railing anymore. “We won’t fall.”

“How do you  _ know _ ?”

“We are strapped to this bridge. We aren’t going anywhere. It’d be impossible. I won’t let you fall.”

He swallows. “Do you think a lot of people have jumped?”

“I hope not.”

“Kind of breaks my heart a little bit.”

Harry’s hands grip his waist tighter. “Me, too.”

Louis forces his gaze away from the sign. “Let’s keep going.”

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Yes. Just. Don’t ever wanna see that again.”

“Okay, you can close your eyes on the way down.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Forgot we have to walk back down.”

They’re silent the rest of the way up, Louis focusing on keeping his movements steady, his hands locked on the railing, his breathing even. He squints against the sun when he looks up and hears Harry’s own heavy breathing behind him. Cooper was right; this is an  _ insane _ workout.

“Enjoying yourself at all?”

“Yeah, the view is great,” Louis replies, not bothering to hide his sarcasm.

“Awesome. View is  _ amazing _ from back here, too.”

Louis turns slightly and sees Harry staring directly at his ass, smirk playing over his face. He wants to push Harry off the bridge. “Oh, you are disgusting.”

Harry laughs. “Almost at the top. Not much longer.”

“Good, because I’m fucking tired.”

“Cooper wasn’t kidding, huh.”

“Jesus, my legs are Jell-O.”

“I’ll carry you if I have to. We’re going to the top.”

Louis snorts. “Because  _ that _ makes me feel safe. Sure, Harry, let me climb on your back and hang onto you like a koala. Sounds like a fabulous plan.”

“You can’t be  _ too _ heavy.”

“I’m all muscle, I’m strong and manly.”

“I agree.”

The final stretch of their climb is the hardest; it’s impossibly windier and Louis feels like he’s going to slip right off the structure, even though logically, he knows he won’t. His heart is pounding inside his chest, threatening to burst. Five more steps, four more steps, three, two, one more step…

He stills and holds on for dear life, gripping the railing, eyes closed, and when he feels Harry’s hand on his own, he reaches for that, instead, trusting that Harry is somehow sturdier than the bridge itself. Harry squeezes, hand much less shakier than Louis’.

“You did it.”

Louis nods, eyes still glued shut. “I did. We did.”

“Will you look, please?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

Harry laughs lightly, and Louis can feel Harry’s check against his own. “Come on, baby. You did so well. It’s gorgeous up here. Please.”

Louis counts to ten inside his head, and then counts to 20. Harry’s patient and doesn’t ask, just traces his thumb along the back of Louis’ knuckles in slow, steady circles. If he notices how sweaty Louis’ palms are, he doesn’t mention it.

He opens his eyes slowly and when he looks around, the breath is knocked out of him. It’s the most surreal thing he’s seen in his entire life, and he doesn’t have words for it. Somehow, he feels like he’s on top of the world, but simultaneously the smallest he’s ever felt, like he’s limitless, yet holds no power. It’s overwhelming, standing here, staring out into the ocean and city for miles and miles. His eyes start to tear up, and he can blame it on the wind all he wants, but there’s no way Harry would believe that.

“Gorgeous,” he croaks out.

“Definitely. Was it worth it?”

Louis clears his throat. “I think so. I mean, I’m okay so far, right?”

“You’re okay.” He keeps rubbing circles onto the back of Louis’ hand.

“We’re very high up, though.”

Harry smiles. “Don’t overthink it.”

“I’m desperately trying not to.”

They stand in silence for another minute or two, taking turns staring out at the scene before them and at each other, and that’s about how long it takes for Louis to break, more than ready to head back down to solid ground.

The trip down the bridge is much easier, and mostly because Louis gets to stare at Harry’s back the entire time. It blocks the view, which significantly helps with his nerves. Also, Harry has a nice back.

_ Really _ nice.

They’re back on the ground much quicker than Louis thought they would be, and he rips off his helmet immediately, tugging at his harness. Cooper nearly bounces over, asking questions about their “magnificent journey,” helping with the equipment, but Louis is only half listening, nodding every so often as to pretend he’s listening. Harry has helmet hair, probably matching Louis’, and his cheeks are pink and blotchy from the wind. He’s gorgeous. When he catches Louis staring, he blows him a sloppy kiss, and Louis’ stomach swoops.

Cooper instructs Louis to step out of the harness, and the second he’s free of it, he charges at Harry, who already has his arms open. They stand in a locked embrace, Louis’ face pressed into Harry’s chest, and he can hear his heart beating wildly. Louis swallows, and murmurs a, “Thank you,” into his shirt.

Harry rubs his hands in between Louis’ shoulder blades. “No. Thank  _ you. _ ”

They stand there for  _ way _ too long, hardly moving, and when Louis finally pulls away, it’s only because he doesn’t want to start tearing up again. Too much adrenaline, too many nerves.

Or something like that.   
  


* * *

Part two of their date is dinner by the water, secluded and  _ not _ on the rooftop of a building, thank you very much. The crew gives Louis time to change out of his clothes from earlier and into a more dressier outfit, and he unsuccessfully shakes the wrinkles out of his dress pants. His hair is still extremely windswept and his lips are a bit chapped, but he’s going to have to roll with it.

He does a quick interview talking about the Bridge of Doom before he’s guided into the restaurant, and he sees Harry sitting at a table at the balcony’s edge.  _ His _ helmet hair miraculously seems to have cured itself. Damn glam team.

Harry looks up and sees Louis, smile forming instantly, and he gets up to hug him.

“You look amazing,” he breathes into Louis’ hair.

Louis scrunches up his face. “‘m afraid I’m a bit sunburned from today.”

“It looks good on you.”

“I bet.”

“Ready to eat?”

“ _ Yes. _ I’m starving.”

Harry pulls out Louis’ chair, and as Louis is placing the cloth napkin on his lap, Harry gestures towards the camera crew. “One of them told you we’re not actually allowed to eat, right?”

Louis pauses. “Excuse me?”

“I know. The sounds from the knives and forks and chewing gets jumbled when we’re wearing the mics, so for dinner dates, we just pretend to eat.”

“I can’t tell if you’re kidding or not.”

“I wish I wasn’t serious.”

Louis’ stunned. “Okay, so, that blows.”

Harry nods. “Tell them, not me.”

He turns and looks over his shoulder. “You guys blow.”

A few of them chuckle and Lydia steps forward. Does she go anywhere without that damn clipboard? “Sorry, Louis. But we always bag food up for you to take with you. We’re not going to starve you.”

“Oh, how generous of you.”

She ignores his sass and continues. “I have some more bad news, though.”

“Worse than putting a plate of steak in front of my face and instructing me to just smell it?”

“The  _ drama _ of it all. Yes, it’s worse. Unfortunately, the winds blowing in this way are too strong for the helicopter to take you back tonight. So I’m going to give you a couple of choices. We can book a hotel for you tonight -  _ separate _ rooms - and we can head back in the morning, or we can rent a car and you can drive the six hours home and arrive around seven AM.”

Both options seem unappealing, and he looks at Harry to see what he thinks. Harry shrugs.

“What do you think, Louis?”

“Is there a third option in which we sleep here tonight and take a plane or a train back early tomorrow?”

“What, you don’t want to spend six hours trapped in a car with me Route 101?”

“No offense, but hell no.”

Harry laughs. “Lydia, is that possible? To go back in the morning and avoid the copter?”

She taps her fingers on her clipboard, clearly irritated. “You  _ are _ aware you aren’t royalty, right?”

Louis sighs. “If we have to, we can do the helicopter. I just. Really fucking hated it. Like, makes my stomach hurt thinking about having to get back in it. And I’m dead tired. I just want to sleep in a bed. Facing your deepest fears repeatedly from sunrise to sunset really sucks it out of you, yeah?”

She sighs again. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Bless you,” Louis says, relaxing into his chair, and turns back to Harry. “So, what looks good enough to order but not to eat?”

Harry laughs. “I was thinking that seafood pasta thing on page two.”

“Done.”

 

For the next 90 minutes, Louis honestly and wholeheartedly enjoys a pretend dinner on a very real date with Harry Styles.

The food smells amazing - would probably taste even better - and the view of the ocean is to die for. The constant cameras in his face isn’t as annoying as he thought it would be, and when Lydia confirms they have a flight the next morning for ten AM, Louis feels significantly better.

“Also,” she adds, “no cameras at the hotel. We don’t want to give viewers the idea that Harry’s sleeping around so early on.”

“Uh, or at  _ all _ ,” he protests.

“You have 19 boyfriends,” she says solemnly and walks off the set before Harry can come up with something to say back, and Louis can’t help but laugh.

Harry rolls his eyes and twirls his angel hair pasta around his fork, setting it down without taking a bite off of it. “This is probably lame, but. I’m really proud of you for today.”

Louis blushes. “You’re right, that was lame.”

He smiles. “Did it help? Like, are you still totally afraid of heights?”

He stares dumbly. “How would putting me at the highest peak in San Francisco help me get over my fear of heights.” He’s not sure if it’s actually the highest peak, but it sounds good, regardless.

“It’s like exposure therapy. If someone’s afraid of snakes, you put them in a tank of snakes, and then they see that it isn’t scary and they can start to get over it.”

“Okay, yeah, that sounds awesome. Let’s stick you in a tank of bunnies.”

Harry freezes. “Not funny.”

“Exactly.”

He goes back to twirling his pasta. “Still proud of you, though.”

“Thank you.”

“Did you feel better knowing I was behind you, though? Like, was I of any comfort?”

What a dumbass, fishing for compliments. “You’re great, Harry, but no, I was still fucking terrified.”

Harry laughs. “Tell that to the bruises on my hand.”

Louis looks across the table and sees he isn’t kidding. He  _ actually _ has tiny bruises forming from where Louis was digging into his hand. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, really.” He shrugs, buttering a piece of bread he can’t eat. “You’re funny and sarcastic and obviously smart and witty and. I don’t know. It was nice to see a more vulnerable side of you. You have depth. I liked getting to know  _ that _ Louis Tomlinson, too.”

He swallows - tries to, anyway - and reaches for his glass of water. “You mean the Louis Tomlinson who nearly cried because of a little wind?”

“No, I mean the Louis Tomlinson who pushed himself out of his comfort zone because he knew it would make me happy.”

Christ, it’s a lot, because Harry’s right. Louis wouldn’t have done that for most people, people he’s known for years, and yet.

“I’m glad I did it.”

“I’m glad you did it, too.” He grabs the salt from the center of the table and shakes some across his entree. “Wanna move on from this?”

“Please.”

“Okay. First date questions?”

“Ugh, how is that a better alternative?”

“Because we only talked about your family a little bit the first night. I wanna know more. They sound amazing.”

Oh. Louis can  _ easily _ talk about his family. And he wants to. So he does. He tells Harry that his mum was a single mother up until Louis was about five, and even though she was fairly young when she had him, she kicked major ass as it, and now he has incredible high standards for how he wants to parent his own kids. He tells him that he has five sisters and a brother - to which Harry replies, “I remember” - and that he’s still extremely close with them, especially Lottie, the oldest, even with the distance. He tells him that his best childhood memories consist of his mum making a giant fuss about his birthday, because it’s on Christmas Eve, and most people don’t care about your birthday when it’s so close to a major holiday.

Louis takes a sip of his drink. “One time I asked her if that’s why she always put so much extra effort into my birthdays, because she felt bad. And she said, ‘No, baby, it’s because you’re my favorite child.’”

Harry laughs. “Sounds like something my own mother would do.”

“I miss her quite a bit. I love Chicago, I do. It’s just hard sometimes to be so far away.”

“Do you want to go back? To London?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. I daydream about it a lot but I have such an incredible life here now that it would be silly to give it all up because I’m homesick sometimes.”

Harry nods. “We should call her.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, let’s call her. When was the last time you talked to her?”

Louis scratches his jaw. “Not that long ago. The day I flew to LA, I think. So, like, not even a full week ago.”

“We should call her,” he repeats.

“Well, as fun as that seems,” Louis starts, not bothering to hide his sarcasm,” it’s about four in the morning her time.”

Harry frowns. “I forgot about timezones.”

“I can see that.”

“In the morning, then?”

Louis laughs. “Just desperate to meet another Tomlinson?”

“Another  _ accent, _ actually. It’s bloody brilliant.”

He laughs again. “Shit impression, Styles.”

“I tried.”

“Not well. But in the morning, if I decide I still like you, we can call me mum.”

He waggles his brows. “You like me?”

“Oi, forget it, I  _ don’t. _ ”

Harry smiles and looks down, going back to cutting up his food. “So. Let’s talk about past relationships.”

“Do we have to?”

“You watched me get broken up with on national television. The least you can do is tell me about your last boyfriend.”

“Valid point. Okay.” He nervously twists his napkin in his hands. “His name is Nathan and we dated for three years.”

“Decent amount of time.”

“Yeah. Felt like longer, though.”

“Not a great relationship?”

“No, it was lovely. Just. We had quite a few problems by the end of it.”

“If you want to talk about it, I’m all ears.”

Louis licks his lips. “Yeah. Alright. It was actually kind of like an honest love story.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Yes, for him.”

Harry looks confused. “How’s that now?”

“He fell in love with his best friend. Who was not me.”

“Oh. Jesus.”

“He worked with this guy for, like, six years, so I never thought anything of it. They were friends before I ever came along; I never felt like he was a threat.” He shrugs. “Guess I wasn’t as intuitive as I’d thought I was.”

“What ended up happening?”

“He cheated on me for over a year.” His voice falls flat and he’s afraid he’s just made everything awkward but Harry’s soft expression says otherwise.

“Louis,” he says, shaking his head.

“The guy’s mum had sent Nate an invitation to their family Christmas party. I opened the envelope without thinking, really, and I was super confused as to why his coworker’s mum had his address, and was comfortable enough to invite him to an intimate family gathering. I asked him about it and by the look on his face, I just immediately knew. I was completely blindsided.” He stops twisting the napkin and puts his hands on the table. “Wasn’t the best birthday or Christmas that year, I’d say.”

“That’s…” He leans across the table and grabs Louis’ hand in his own. “I’m sorry, Lou.”

“It’s all good now. It’s been a year and a half since I’ve seen him or talked to him and last I’ve heard, Nate and Thomas are married and happily living somewhere in Seattle.”

“Fuck Seattle.”

Louis smiles. “Exactly.”

Harry traces lines across the back of Louis’ knuckles. “Is it shitty I don’t feel  _ completely _ horrible that that happened to you, though?”

He frowns. “I’d say it’s shitty, yeah.”

“Just, if that hadn’t happened, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Oi, what a line,” he says with a smirk.

“It’s not, really. You’re, like…” He trails off, still holding Louis’ hand, Louis’ gaze. “I can’t believe someone would let you go.”

Louis blushes. “Thanks, love.”

“I mean it.”

“I know you do.”

He really does.

 

They talk for a while longer, Harry’s gaze lingering on him a little too long, making Louis’ cheeks burn.

“Did I tell you that you look amazing tonight?”

Louis brushes his hair out of his eyes. “I think you did. Maybe once.”

“I’m telling you again. Like, jaw dropping gorgeous.”

“Okay, Styles.”

Harry smiles. “Will you do this again with me?”

“What, listen to you go on about how beautiful I am? Sure.”

He rolls his eyes. “That, and another date.”

“I think probably, most definitely, I would.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” He reaches across the table and picks up a perfectly red rose, which has been resting on a silver tray for God only knows how long. Louis honestly hadn’t noticed it until right now. “Louis, will you accept this rose?”

“Probably, most definitely.”

“Good.” He pins the rose to Louis’ lapel, and usually, at this point, the bachelor and date lean in together, and they kiss, romantically and passionately in front of 15 crew members. But Louis doesn’t want that yet. He wants something better than that, because damnit, he’s actually starting to  _ like _ this guy.

He sits back in his chair. “I can’t believe I have to share you with 19 other men.”

“What?”

“Uh, you have 19 more dates waiting for you back at the mansion, or did you forget.”

The look on Harry’s face says he actually  _ did _ forget. “Christ, you’re right.”

Louis opens his mouth to say something else, but then his stomach growls, loud and unmistakable, and he turns to the crew. “Okay, lads. Everyone’s gonna need to stop filming because I can’t take it anymore. I have to eat.”

Lydia shakes her head, laughing. “Fine. We’ve got enough footage, anyway. The car out front is ready to take you back to your hotel. I’ll have your food wrapped up for you.”

“Don’t even bother having it wrapped up, the plastic will just slow me down.”

Harry laughs. “Ditto.”   
  


* * *

The ride to the hotel is the best part of the entire date, and that is  _ not _ an exaggeration.

Louis rips into the food before the car door is even shut, and he moans the second his tongue touches the shrimp and scallops. He can’t bother to be embarrassed that he’s eating  _ pasta _ with his fingers - that’s how hungry he is - and he can’t tell if the food is even actually good or not. At this point, he thinks he’d eat garbage, he’s so famished.

Harry is no better off, digging in, twirling the pasta around a Goddamn knife and using that as his sole utensil, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

“Attractive,” Louis snorts, mouth full.

“You’re one to talk.”

The drive to the hotel is short, just a mile or two from the restaurant, and as Louis is finishing up his meal, rubbing his garlic soaked fingers on his trousers, that’s when he remembers.

“Harry, I don’t have any pajamas or anything like that.”

“Ha. You’re right. I don’t either. Maybe there’re some sweatpants and t-shirts somewhere around here that we can buy.”

“True. Gift shop on the network’s tab?”

Harry nods. “Gift shop on the network’s tab.”

They head into the hotel together, lobby floor pieced together with overly shiny pieces of marble, and stop at the front desk.

“Hi, Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles. Checking in.”

The woman behind the counter clicks around with her mouse, eyes glued to the computer screen. “Mr. Tomlinson, you’re in room 207, and Mr. Styles, you’re in room 441.”

Louis turns to Harry. “Lydia wasn’t kidding, huh?”

“Not even on the same floor. She’s ruthless.”

He taps his fingers on the front desk. “Gift shop on  _ Lydia’s _ tab?”

Harry laughs. “Perfect.”

They take their room cards from the woman behind the desk and find the gift shop down the hall and around the corner. The teenager behind the desk looks miserably bored and mumbles, “Can I help you with anything.”

“Uh, no, we’re good,” Louis says. “Harry, come over here. Look at this.” He holds up a yellow, fringed t-shirt, with an outline of the Golden Gate Bridge across the center. In rainbow glitter. “You  _ need _ this.”

Harry bursts out laughing. “You think I’d look good in this, baby?”

“I  _ know _ you would.”

“Okay, then.” He shrugs out of his suit and starts to loosen his tie. “Hand me the shirt.”

“Harry, you can’t undress in a fucking gift shop.”

“Why not? Mr. Excitement behind the counter clearly doesn’t seem to care.”

Louis looks over. The teen hasn’t looked in their direction once since they entered the store. “Alright, then. Strip.”

Harry smirks and unbuttons his dress shirt, holding it out for Louis to take. And Jesus, Louis hasn’t seen him shirtless in person yet, only on TV, but it’s nearly enough to make his mouth water. He didn’t realize he had  _ so _ many tattoos, but they suit him, somehow, and the definition of his abs is impossible.

He’s obviously been staring for too long, because Harry waves his hand in front of Louis’ face, grabbing his attention. “Like what you see?”

Louis can feel his entire face heat up, beyond grateful that the cameras aren’t here to record this. “Take the shirt, nudist.”

Harry grabs it and struggles to put it on, seeing as it’s clearly made for a 9-year-old girl, and grunts when it gets stuck over his head. He tries to readjust it, pulling it down, stretching it out, and once it’s finally on all the way, Louis can’t hold back his laughter, nearly squawking with how ridiculous it is.

“You look fucking  _ amazing. _ ”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Harry looks down. “It’s so stretched, it doesn’t look like the Golden Gate Bridge anymore. What am I even looking at now?!”

“I dunno, mate, but it’s glittery and fabulous.”

“Fuck. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to get this off.”

“Who said you’re allowed to take this off?”

“Louis!” He tries to pull it off, but stops when it begins to tear. “Oh my God!”

Louis has tears in his eyes he’s laughing so hard. “Looks like you’re gonna have to wear it out of here.”

“No, absolutely not. It’s a fucking crop top.”

“Not intentionally, you just made it that way.”

“Does that make it better?!”

He can’t stop laughing, even more so when Harry starts flailing his arms around like he’s on fire. “Please leave it on. Seriously. I’m begging you.”

“I’m not sure I have a choice, really.” He rolls his shoulders and it starts to tear even more. “What do I do!”

Still trying to control his laughter, Louis takes a step closer. “Come here, I’ll help. You’re like a big, dumb Great Dane.”

“Fuck. It’s itchy from all the glitter.”

“Want me to scratch behind your ears, boy?”

“ _ No. _ ”

“Put your arms up.”

Harry obeys, putting his arms in the air, and the shirt rises even more, exposing his stomach and happy trail. Louis forces himself not to stare as he stands on his tiptoes to pull the shirt off over his head.

Doesn’t mean he can help his lingering hands against Harry’s hips, though.

Harry stands completely still, mouth shut, as Louis pulls the shirt over his head, easing his arms out of the holes, and it comes off easily enough once Harry stops twisting like a caged animal. 

Louis clears his throat. “You’re, uh. You’re all set. No more rainbow glitter for you.”

Harry’s gaze is steady and Louis squirms under the intensity of it. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem, let’s go find something that actually fits you, yeah?” His voice doesn’t sound like his own, and he hopes to God that Harry doesn’t notice.

“I think I see regular t-shirts in the corner. Over there, by the snacks,” Harry replies, pointing, still naked from the waist up.

_ For the love of all things holy and pure, put a fucking shirt on. _ “Awesome.”

They browse through the racks together, Louis eventually landing on a solid black t-shirt that has a small, white outline of the bridge over the right breast pocket. He grabs a pair of gray sweatpants, also plain, and makes his way to the register, Harry trailing behind him.

Louis hands the clothes over to the teenager, who still looks terribly uninterested, and scoffs when he sees the size of the sweatpants Harry picked out.

“You’re big, but you’re not Michael Jordan.”

“You know who Michael Jordan is? Do British people even care about basketball?”

He rolls his eyes. “I live in  _ Chicago. _ He’s, like, the first thing I learned about on my first day of college.”

“Right. Duh.” He eyes Louis’ purchase. “Um, yours are almost just as big, you hypocrite.”

“I like to be comfortable.”

“And comfort is being able to  _ swim _ in them?”

“Yes, exactly. Come to think of it, I might steal yours.”

“They’d fall right off of you.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Whatever you say. Although you’d probably look good in them, honestly.”

“You think?”

Harry nods. “Would  _ love _ to see you in my clothes.” He looks at the teenager behind the register before Louis has a chance to react, and that’s probably for the better. “Can you put all of this on the tab for room 441?”

“Yup.”

“Thanks. And don’t bother bagging anything.”

“‘kay.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Pleasant,” he mumbles under his breath, and Harry nudges him with his shoulder, grabbing the clothes from the counter.

“Thanks so much.”

“Anytime,” the cashier replies, tone flat.

They change quickly in the dressing rooms, Louis almost groaning at how nice the cotton feels, sweatpants threatening to fall off his hips, and he balls up his suit and dress shirt, holding it under his arm.

Harry exits the dressing room at the same time, his own sweatpants and t-shirt looking equally as casual and comfortable. “You ready?”

Louis nods. “Mhm.”

The hotel’s lobby is just about deserted and Louis checks the clock above the front desk. It reads almost three in the morning. Harry looks up, too.

“Yikes, I had no idea how late it was.”

“Me, either. Guess we should head upstairs. To our separate rooms. Like Amish folk.”

Harry laughs. “I don’t think the Amish would approve of our outfits.”

“What’s wrong with our outfits?! All the important body parts are appropriately covered!”

“They have a lot of rules.”

“Are you really going to educate me on the rules of the Amish at fucking three in the morning?”

He snorts. “No, I won’t do that.”

“Good, because I’m exhausted.” His stomach growls, then, loud enough that Harry’s eyes go wide at the sound. “And hungry, too, apparently.”

“I could probably eat.”

“I bet you could.”

“I’m sure there’s something open in here somewhere. Wanna look?”

“Are you serious? Harry, we have to get up in, like, four hours for our flight.”

“‘m serious. I want to take you out to dinner. Have a real date.”

Louis swallows and twists his hands together. “A proper date? One that doesn’t involve climbing a fucking bridge or pretending to eat on camera for 90 minutes?”

Harry laughs. “Exactly. I’ll pull your chair out for you and pay and everything.”

He contemplates for about .5 seconds. “Okay, let’s do that,” he says, smiling. “Let’s go on our first date.”

“And say a small blessing that there are no cameras around. I’m not sure how we got out of that one, but I’m not complaining.”

“Me, either.”

They find their way to the small section of dining down a corridor, and unfortunately, everything is closed. And now that the offer of food is on the table - pun intended - Louis  _ needs _ to eat something, and vending machine junk won’t do.

“Shit, Lou, I’m sorry. I don’t think…” He trails off and looks down the hall, gaze unwavering.

“What?”

“Come on.” He grabs Louis’ hand, lacing their fingers together, and he all but drags him down the hallway. “Hey, excuse me!” Harry calls out.

A man steps out from around the corner. How did Harry even see him? “Can I help you?”

“Hi, I’m sorry to bother you, but do you work for the restaurant?”

He nods. “I do. We’re not open until four, I’m afraid.”

Harry purses his lips together. “What can I do to bribe you?”

Louis pinches Harry’s hip. “ _ Harry. _ ”

He ignores him. “You see, I’m trying to make a good impression. My date, Louis, and I haven’t been together very long, and he told me he’s hungry. I have to get him some food. I want him to like me, because, let’s face it, I  _ really _ like him. Look at him. How could I not?”

Louis blushes. “Jesus, Styles.”

Harry continues. “I promise, we won’t be long, or order anything insane. Just something basic. And I’ll overpay. By a lot.”

The chef doesn’t even consider it. “Sorry, kid.”

Harry sighs. “Fine. Do you have a cell phone on you?”

“Yes…”

“Google ‘Harry Styles bachelor’ real quick.”

“And why would I do that.”

“Come on, my friend, time is of the essence!”

“Harry,  _ what _ are you doing?” Louis whispers.

Harry continues to ignore him. “Did you find anything?”

The chef looks down at his phone, up at Harry, back down at his phone, and up at Harry again. “Hey. You’re this guy.”

“I am, yes.” He drops Louis’ hand and holds his out to shake the chef’s. “I’m Harry Styles, nice to meet you. We’re currently filming for an episode of  _ The Bachelor. _ ” He pauses. “Well, not right at this exact moment, but we have been all night. And will be again in the morning. And if you can get me and my Louis in for a late night meal, you bet your ass you will get  _ so _ much positive press, you’ll be turning people away. Let’s start by taking a picture together. Come on, the three of us. Selfie time, bring it in.”

Louis’ neck heats up at  _ my Louis _ but crowds in next to Harry and the chef, anyway, to take a photo, and can’t believe Harry’s idiotic plan actually worked. The chef holds his arms out, and just before he takes the picture, Harry presses his lips up against Louis’ temple.

“There, now you  _ also _ have a picture of our first kiss.”

“Pretty lame first kiss, Styles,” Louis murmurs.

“Want a better one?”

“Not in front of this poor man, no.”

The chef smiles, and he doesn’t seem nearly as annoyed as he did before. “Alright, fine, you boys win. I’ll open up the kitchen for you. My name is Douglas Cook, by the way.”

Harry’s eyes go wide and he holds up his finger to say something, but Louis grabs hold of it and bends it backwards, Harry whimpering. “Don’t you  _ dare _ make some crappy joke about how his last name is Cook and how it makes sense that he’s a chef.”

He laughs, yanking his finger away. “Whatever, Tomlinson.” He turns to Douglas and winks. “My boy knows me too well already.”

“That’s  _ enough, _ Harry, for the love of God, he’s not gonna serve us if you keep being so gross.”

“Could be a lot grosser.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

Douglas rubs his hands together. “Okay, are you done bickering? You can go seat yourselves in the dining area and I’ll grab some menus.”

Harry slips his hand into Louis’ again. “Awesome, thank you so much.”

Douglas unlocks the door for them and they slide in, choosing a seat near the empty bar. It’s eerie, almost, that they’re the only ones in there, no music playing, no waiters running around, no noises of clinking glass. Just the steady rhythm of their breathing and the nearly silent sound of Harry’s thumb rubbing against the back of Louis’ hand.

Just them and no one else.

Well, them plus Douglas.

They both decide on quesadillas, and Douglas prepares them quickly, serving them steaming hot, the cheese oozing out of the sides. It smells too good to wait, so Louis picks it up, promptly burning his fingers and cursing.

He slips out of his dress shoes, knowing he probably looks horribly dumb in them, anyway, and sits with his knees pulled up to his chest, feeling a million times better. He lounges comfortably for only a second or two when he feels Harry staring at him.

“What.”

Harry raises a brow. “Make yourself at home.”

“I’m trying.”

They both eat in silence for a bit, Louis licking the stringy cheese off of his fingers, Harry munching at the crispy edges. Eventually, he puts down what’s left of his quesadilla and clears his throat.

“So, I have a question.”

Louis takes another bite. “Is it how are these so damn delicious? Because I have the same question. I kind of want to sue Douglas over it.”

“Ha. No. But they  _ are _ good.”

“Okay, what’s your question.”

“I get the vibe that this entire ordeal isn’t exactly your cup of tea, so to speak.”

“What, bribing strange men into giving me food? Because I am  _ definitely _ about that.”

Harry snorts. “No. Being on the show.”

“Oh.” He wipes his hands on a napkin. “Yeah, you’re right. How could you tell?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. Not to sound like a total dick--”

“You already do.”

“--but most guys are throwing themselves at me. You’re content to kind of, like, sit back.”

“Not my style to act so eager, I guess. Even if that’s the point of this entire thing.”

“Do you think it works? Like, do you think you could fall in love?”

Louis stares at him blankly. “Are you asking if I love you.”

“Jesus, no. I’m asking if you think it’s possible.”

“Isn’t this a conversation we should have had  _ on _ camera?”

“No, because I knew you wouldn’t have been honest.”

Louis runs his fingers through his hair. “Christ, less than 24 hours with you and you can already read me like a fucking book.”

Harry smirks. “So? Do you think it’s possible?”

He pauses, thinking. “I didn’t sign myself up for the show,” he starts. “My best friend Zayn did for me. Because he thought I would have fun. And he knew I was obsessed with your stupidly perfect face.”

He laughs. “Your face is kind of stupidly perfect, as well.”

“I know.” He rubs his hands together mindlessly. “I think most of the show is cheesy, and a ton of it is totally bogus and scripted.”

“I’d agree with that.”

“ _ But _ I don’t think it’s impossible to develop feelings for someone this way. I never imagined it would be me, but this has been really fun so far, and… I dunno. I’m very skeptical at times, not so much at others. I don’t necessarily view this as a game, per se, like other people do, but it  _ is _ a challenge, yeah? And not in a bad way, if that makes sense.”

Harry nods. “It does, I understand that. I felt that way last year. I signed up on a whim, thinking there would be no harm, really. And then I just. I fell in love.”

“I watched it all happen, I remember.”

He nods again. “I’m  _ really _ enjoying having you here, Louis.”

“Thanks.” He tries to hold back a yawn and mostly fails. “Me, too, love.”

“Looks it.”

“To be fair, it’s, like, four in the morning.”

“Yeah, we should head upstairs, probably.”

“Probably.”

They sit in the dining hall for another hour and a half.

 

Louis is dead tired by time he makes it to his hotel room door. Harry  _ insisted _ on walking him, saying, “It’s not a real first date if I don’t walk you to your door.” Louis had rolled his eyes, but he was secretly very pleased, and he has the feeling Harry knew that.

“So, I had a lovely time tonight,” Louis says, lazy smirk playing across his face.

Harry nods. “Me, too. Kinda don’t wanna leave you.”

“You can stay.”

“As tempting as that is, I don’t put out on the first date.”

“Such a gentleman. But who said anything about sex? You can just come in. And sleep.”

Louis watches as Harry swallows. “Do you really think I’d be able to sleep next to you and  _ not _ touch you?”

He steps backward, his back hitting the wall. Harry takes a step closer. “That’s a good question, Styles.” He slips his finger into the waistband of Harry’s oversized sweatpants. “Still think I want these, even though you think I’ll be able to swim in them.”

Harry nods. “You  _ will _ be able to swim in them. Might let you have them, though, if you’re good enough.”

Louis looks up at him through his eyelashes. “Have I been good enough so far?”

He nods again, a little bit of desperation written on his face. “Yeah. Really good.” Harry lets Louis play at the waistband of his pants some more, until his demeanor breaks. “I want to kiss you.”

_ Thank God. _ “Do you normally tell the boys that before you kiss them?”

“No, you just make me so fucking nervous.”

“What happened to, ‘You make me the most comfortable.’?”

Harry runs his fingers through his hair, fingers getting tangled in the curls at the bottom. “It’s a funny conundrum. The Louis Tomlinson conundrum.”

Louis licks his lips. “You gonna trademark that?”

He leans in a bit, hand reaching up to cup Louis’ jaw. “Might have to. Gonna be using a lot from now on.”

“Does that mean you want to keep me around for a while longer?”

“Baby, you have no idea.”

Harry’s lips graze Louis’, then, so unbelievably careful and methodical, like he’d been thinking about it all day and knew exactly how to map it out. If that’s the case, he’s in good company.

Louis pulls him in closer by his hips, loving how easily Harry falls into him, and when Louis opens his mouth, letting his tongue dart out, Harry inhales sharply, cupping Louis’ jaw with both hands.

Harry tastes like the quesadillas they just had - Louis assumes he probably tastes the same - and like something else that Louis can’t put his finger on. It’s sweet; maybe it’s just Harry. He doesn’t spend much more time trying to figure it out though, not when Harry’s digging his fingers into Louis’ scalp, pressing the entire length of his body up against Louis’.

Louis can’t help but whine into it, not when he’s being kissed like this. Harry is dragging his tongue in all the right spots, his hands playing over his entire body in the most intimate way, and no one has ever been able to kiss Louis the exact way he likes it, not on the very first try.

It’s a little too slick, a little too quick, for a first kiss, but it feels right. Their entire date was magnified, seemed like they were moving in double time, so it’s only appropriate that the first time their lips touch only follows suit.

He has no idea how long they stand there for, touching and tasting, but eventually, Harry pulls back and rests his forehead against Louis’. He’s breathing deeply, eyes closed, hands still gripped tightly around Louis’ shoulders. Louis drags his thumb across Harry’s bottom lip, and he opens his eyes at that.

“You’re.” Harry starts, then shakes his head. “I’m already crazy about you. How is that possible.”

“I think we’re on the same page, love.”

“I’m not gonna be able to stop thinking about you.”

Louis has to briefly close his eyes at that. “Okay. So don’t.”

“Okay.” He captures Louis’ lips in a kiss again, this time even deeper, somehow, and Louis can’t do anything but lean back against the wall and take it.

He lets his hands stray further this time, traveling up his torso, around his back, gripping at his shoulder blades. Harry shudders slightly every time Louis digs his nails in, and if it wasn’t nearly six in the morning, Louis would  _ seriously _ be trying to convince him to come back into his hotel room. The idea of having Harry in his bed is too good, too much.

He whimpers particularly hard when Harry grinds their hips together, being able to feel Harry hard against him. Fuck. It’s a lot, to know Harry clearly wants him back, and he has to break the kiss.

“Harry,” he whines out.

Harry breathes heavily for a moment, then dips down to kiss up Louis’ jaw, down his throat, moving his shirt out of the way and sucking a bruise into his collarbone.

Louis squirms underneath him, the attention he’s receiving almost intolerable, and Harry lets go, standing up straight when he’s apparently satisfied with his work.

He reaches up to touch the spot on his neck and can nearly feel it throbbing underneath his fingertips. He groans. “Oh, great work, Harry. As if the rest of the guys in the house didn’t hate me enough as it is. Now I’m basically branded by you.” But then he gets a good look at Harry, and sees that  _ he’s _ essentially branded, too. The entire bottom half of his face is completely pink and rashy looking, courtesy of Louis’ stubbly face. It looks a little raw, and when Louis drags his finger down his cheek, Harry winces. Louis’ fingers tremble as he does it again, and again.

“You care what the other guys think?”

Louis shrugs, trying to find his balance again. “Not really, no.”

“Didn’t think so.” His gaze is locked on Louis’ face. “You’re, like. Fucking stunning, Lou.”

“Shut  _ up, _ ” he whispers.

“No.” He kisses Louis again, this time chaste. “Tell me to go back to my hotel room. Because if you don’t, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to leave from this spot.”

“You’re even dumber than I thought you were if you think I’m gonna force you to leave.”

Harry smiles, twisting their hands together. “Alright. I’ll go.”

He doesn’t move.

Louis sighs. “Lydia’s gonna wonder why our first kiss on camera has so much chemistry. It’s ‘cause we’ve been practicing behind the scenes.”

“She's also going to wonder how we managed to do so much shit in an empty hotel in the middle of the night. They're all going to be pissed nothing was filmed once they catch wind of that.”

“True.”

He smirks. “I’ll practice with you behind the scenes all you want, by the way.”

He blushes. “No, you can go away now.”

Harry laughs. “Okay. I’m going.” He kisses him one more time before pulling back. “I’ll see you in, like, two hours.”

“Please have coffee ready. Unless you have a death wish.”

“Oh, absolutely. You can trust me.”

Louis isn’t about to admit that he kind of already does.

 

Louis wakes up the next morning - or rather, two hours later - extremely grumpy and beyond irritable, contacts stuck to his eyes, almost in tears that he’s so tired. That is, until he sees a bag on the nightstand next to him.

He peers inside and sees a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. He doesn’t realize their Harry’s until he reads the note on the bottom of the bag:

_ L, _ __   
_ Enjoy the swim. _ _   
_ __ \- H

The shirt smells like him and when he slips on the pants, they  _ do _ almost fall right off. They’re fucking perfect and Louis wants to  _ live _ in them.

Jesus, this smile might be permanent.

The car is already waiting outside for him when he makes his way through the lobby, and Harry is sitting in the back, coffee in hand, back in his suit from the night before. Louis slides in next to him and Harry hands him the cup, kissing him on the cheek.

“Knew they’d be ridiculously big on you.”

“I hope you don’t plan to get these back. How’d you even get them in my room?”

“Did some more bribing with one of the women behind the front desk. And you look better in them, anyway, they’re all yours.” He leans forward and speaks to the driver. “Alright, we’re all set. My boy is here.”

The whole way to the airport, Harry leaves his hand dangerously high up on Louis’ thigh, palm warm and big, fingers moving slowly against the gray cotton, and Louis doesn’t do a damn thing about it.

 

Doug’s picture of Harry and Louis from the restaurant surfaces a few weeks later; Harry’s dimple is out and Louis’ eyes are crinkled in the corners. Both of them have messy hair and blotchy cheeks from their day in the wind and sun, and it might be Louis’ favorite picture.   
  


* * *

The next five days at the mansion are… Horribly dull. Now that his date with Harry is over and done with, he doesn’t have much to look forward to until the next cocktail party and rose ceremony rolls around, or until they start traveling. To pass the time, Louis spends the majority of the week intermittently sitting outside tanning in the sun by the pool and lounging inside, trying to salvage any friendship he has inside the house with a few of the boys who don’t seem too threatened by his running start.

He’s back in Harry’s sweatpants, snacking on popcorn on the couch inside, pulling at a loose string at the hem of the pants, when the group date card comes on day four. He stretches obnoxiously, waving his legs around in the air to see if anyone says anything.

Nothing.

No one knows they were originally Harry’s pants - how would they? - but he kind of wants to run around, anyway, screaming, “Look who  _ literally _ got into Harry’s pants first, everyone else stay out!” just so everyone is aware.

He refrains, though, happy to keep it his own little secret.

The date calls for Evan, Cam, Bryce, Jonathan, Cole, Casey, Frankie, Juan, and Elijah. Derek reads it out loud to the group, the disappointment on his face evident when he doesn’t call out his own name. “Let’s belt it out together. Harry.”

Louis is sitting next to Frankie on the couch, and he nudges him with his arm. “You’re going to an opera house, mate.”

“Oh, God, you think?”

“This show has no limits. Enjoy singing in front of thousands of people.”

He rolls his eyes, still obviously not the biggest fan of Louis - no one is, after his winning streak of earning the first impression rose  _ and _ first one-on-one date - but when he sees Frankie start nervously twisting his fingers together, Louis smirks.

Good. If he’s uncomfortable enough on the date, he’ll fuck up, and that’s one more out the door.

Christ, when did he get so territorial?

Harry enters the mansion about two hours later, wearing black jeans similar to the ones he wore on his date with Louis, but this time, instead of a t-shirt, he has on a blazer and his hair is tamed, loose curls framing his jaw.

“Hi, everyone,” he says with a smile.

A couple of the guys get up from their seat on the couch to greet him, and when he wraps his arms around Jay’s shoulders, Louis looks down at his lap.

“I’m excited about our date today!” he continues. “There’s a car out front waiting for us, so let’s get going!”

The group cheers and they make their way out through the door, leaving Louis and the others behind. He looks back up just in time to see Harry staring at him. He winks and mouths, “Nice pants.” And then he’s out the door, too.

Louis goes upstairs and rifles through his laundry until he finds Harry’s gift shop t-shirt. It smells mostly like Louis now, Harry’s cologne faded, but he yanks it over his head, anyway, climbs into his bunk, and promptly falls asleep for four hours.   
  


* * *

The men come back late - not as late as Louis had for his own date, which none of them had really pried over when he arrived back in the morning, thank  _ God _ \- and they’re all pretty rowdy, pissing Louis off when they come into the bedroom, turning all the lights on. He grumbles and turns over on his stomach, putting his pillow over his head.

Someone taps his shoulder. “Louis.”

Louis groans louder and ignores them.

“ _ Lou. _ ”

“Ugh. What do you want.” He rolls over and squints in the light. It’s Cam. “And what time is it?”

“Like, four in the morning.”

Louis’ laugh sounds strangled. “It’s like you have a death wish.”

“Move over. ‘m getting in.”

He’s too tired to argue, so he rolls, pulling the blankets up to his chin. He can smell the alcohol on Cam. “Did you drink an entire  _ troth _ of rum?”

Cam wiggles underneath the sheets, and Louis realizes he’s still wearing his dress pants. “Not a  _ whole _ troth. Just, like, half.”

Louis snorts. “Charming.”

“Are you gonna ask me how the date went?”

“No, because it’s four in the morning.”

“Come on! I asked you how yours went!”

“Cam, this is weird. You’re drunk and in my bed and I don’t want to talk about your date with the same guy  _ I _ just went on a date on five days ago.”

He grumbles. “Fine.”

“Good talk. Go to sleep.”

“Okay.” Cam goes silent for about six seconds. “So, like, we went to an opera house. Frankie said you  _ totally _ called that one.”

Louis resists the urge to punch himself in the face. He knows he won’t be able to go back to sleep until he obliges. “What’d you do at the opera house, Cameron,” he asks, eyes closed.

“We had to learn a song and perform it and I swear to God, I almost puked all over the stage.”

He smiles at that, eyes still closed. “What’d you sing?”

“The second verse of  _ 525,600 Minutes. _ ”

“Ah, a classic.”

“And everyone laughed at me the whole time. I wished you were there. You would have made an even bigger jackass out of yourself than I did.”

“Well, I’ve heard you sing around the house, love. I can’t say I blame them. And  _ I _ ,” he says, smacking Cam across the chest, “am an  _ amazing _ singer.”

“You suck.” He yawns, rubbing his chest. “I’m gonna fall asleep here.”

“Get out of my bunk.”

“Make me.”

Louis has zero strength to force him out, he’s just so fucking tired, so he leaves him there, annoyed he has to share his covers, relieved he finally has someone in the house that he can consider a friend.   
  


* * *

The second cocktail party isn’t  _ nearly _ as nerve wracking as the first one. This time, the interview chair isn’t as unfamiliar, the tie around his neck doesn’t feel as tight, and the whole process itself doesn’t seem as unnatural. Rather than trying to calm his racing heart like last week, he allows himself to get excited at the prospect of having some alone time with Harry for the first time in five days.

All 20 of them are dressed to the nines, waiting in the main living room for Harry to arrive, Casey wearing a red rose attached to his lapel from the group date, Louis wearing two - one from the first cocktail party, one from their date - and he’s feeling like a complete and utter jackass because of it.

Harry walks in around 8 o’clock, and Louis tries to ignore how good he looks. His suit is navy, his tie is black, and his dimple is out and ready to kill. Louis knows he’ll be targeted even more for what he’s about to do, but…   
  
“Hey, Harry, skip the speech, yeah? Come with me.” He stands to his feet and heads over to Harry, grabs his hand, and starts to drag him outside. Harry goes willingly, and when Michael very audibly says, “This asshole has two roses and he’s  _ still _ taking Harry away. Unbelievable,” Harry just squeezes Louis’ hand, reassuring, and their steps fall in sync.

They step out into the cool LA air, hands still linked together. It was unbearably hot earlier, but now with the sun down, it’s comfortable, even in front of the fire pit by the pool.

Settling down on the couch together, Louis lets go of Harry’s hand in favor of grabbing the pillow next to him and putting it in his lap, playing with the tassels on the edges. “So, heard you forced a bunch of guys to sing fucking opera. Kind of dick of you, mate.”

Harry throws his head back and laughs. “Wasn’t exactly my idea, but it was still fun, regardless.”

“I’ll bet.” He twists the fabric around his fingers. “I’ll  _ also _ bet I wake up with a shaved head tomorrow.”

He laughs again. “Yeah, bold move to steal me like that.” He shrugs. “Not sure that I mind, though.”

“No?”

He shakes his head. “Nuh uh. Been thinking about you a lot since our date.”

“Oh, yeah?” He licks his lips. “What specifically?”

Harry pulls the pillow out of Louis’ lap and Louis frowns. “How sarcastic you are, and how funny it always is.”

“One of my best traits.”

He smiles. “How ridiculous your eyes are. So insanely blue, I can’t even believe it.”

“Thanks, I grew them myself.”

“How kind you are,” he continues, “and how smart you are. How good your ass looks in jeans.”

“Harold, please.”

“How pliant you get when I kiss you.”

Louis’ face heats up. “Did you forget there are cameras recording us right now?”

“No. I didn’t.”

“Then you might wanna save that kind of stuff for when we’re not being filmed.”

“Ah, except the other things I’ve been thinking about you are  _ definitely _ not appropriate for TV. That was me keeping it tame.”

Louis kind of wants to climb on top of him. He doesn’t, though. Instead, he traces along Harry’s jawline with his pointer finger. “I see the beard burn went away.”

Harry reaches up and grabs Louis’ finger. “Yeah, it was sore for a day or two.”

“Aw, really?”

Harry nods, smirk playing over his face. “You don’t seem too upset about that, really.”

“Huh. Probably because I’m not.” He leans forward, placing his hands on Harry’s thighs, feeling his muscles tense under his hands. “So, should I leave the beard? For a bit, yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah. You should leave it. Come here.”

They both start to lean in, Louis’ hands gripping tightly on Harry’s thighs, Harry’s breathing audible, and he starts to let his eyes slip shut when a voice behind them says, “Uh, hey guys. Harry, mind if I steal you?”

Louis turns and sees Michael standing there, looking as smug as ever, and Louis wants to drown him in the pool’s waterfall. He clears his throat. “Go ahead, mate. You haven’t had much time with Harry here yet, right?” He smirks. “Not sure he even knows your name.”

Michael balls his fists up and opens his mouth to retaliate, but Harry cuts him off. “I know your name is Michael, and it’s good to see you again.” He turns to Louis. “I’ll see you inside in a bit, Lou.” He doesn’t look annoyed, though. If anything, he looks amused.

Louis nods. “Yes, you will. And you’ll see me next week, too, thanks to my beautiful roses. Plural. Have a nice chat, you two.”

During the rose ceremony later that night, Louis stands amongst the other men, safe from elimination. He stands, bored, as Harry calls out name after name. It goes quicker than last week, but it’s still tedious due to all the stalling and pauses, and by the end of it, Louis’ feet are throbbing from standing in the same spot for so long, his new shoes not properly broken in yet.

Elijah, Vic, and Rob go home, leaving 17 left. They all hold up flutes of champagne to celebrate, and if Louis “accidentally” bumps into Michael a little harder than necessary on his way by, champagne spilling out of the side of Michael’s glass, no one has to know.   
  


* * *

Being on  _ The Bachelor _ starts to feel like a waiting game. Louis is forced to watch as Harry takes guy after guy out on date after date, and he’s antsy with the need to get out of this fucking house, to see Harry again, to experience more than just the perfectly decorated patio of this Goddamn LA mansion.

And his patience is wearing thin.

He’s safe for Week Two. He didn’t go on a date with Harry, but he did manage to pull him aside during the cocktail party for the better part of a half hour, luring him to the basketball court around the side of the house. He loosened his tie, set his drink down on the edge of the lawn, and tossed the ball back and forth between his hands.

“Rules are simple, Styles. Every time you make the shot, the opposing person has to spill a secret. Every time you miss one,  _ you _ have to spill a secret. Got it?”

Harry smirked and loosened his own tie. “I played basketball in college.”

“Funny, me, too.”

“Did anyone ever trample you?”

“Go ahead, get all the short jokes out now, before I know all your secrets and can  _ crush _ you with them.”

He laughed. “You’re the perfect size and you’re gorgeous.”

Louis pretended he wasn’t blushing. “You go first, sap.”

Harry made his first shot, ball dropping in easily. “Tell me a secret about the first time you had sex.”

“Oh,  _ you _ get to pick what kind of secret it is? Alrighty, then.” He tapped his foot against the pavement. “I lost my virginity on a dare.”

“What?!”

“Yeah. My best mate at the time dared me to seduce the school’s football goalie. I didn’t think it would actually work, but, yeah. Kind of dick of me, looking back on it. And I’m not sure if he knows. So, if you see this, sorry, Phillip.”

Harry laughed. “ _ Lucky _ Phillip.”

“Shut up, gimme the ball.” His own shot made it in with a swoosh. “How’d your parents find out you were having sex?”

“Ah, Jesus.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “My mom walked in on me balls deep inside of my girlfriend.”

Louis threw his head back and laughed. “Amazing.”

“Yeah, not so much.” He took the ball from Louis’ hands. “I didn’t think she’d be home for hours!”

“Parents lie about that stuff, Harry.”

“Apparently so.” His next shot hit the rim and bounced out. “Fuck.”

“Ha! Okay, another secret. Porn of choice.”

“Why are all of these secrets about sex?”

“You started it.”

“Ugh.” He made a face. “My  _ family _ is gonna watch this, Lou.”

“Yeah, mine, too. No mercy.”

“Damnit.” He picked up the ball under the hoop and dribbled it mindlessly. “Jesus, this is embarrassing. Probably… I dunno. I like amateur stuff.”

“Why’s that?”

Harry started to squirm, cheeks reddening, and Louis  _ loved _ that he could finally break him down, little by little. “It’s not as phony and there isn’t any stupid dialogue and can we  _ not _ discuss this anymore in front of our camera crew who’s filming this to air it on national TV?”

Louis laughed. “Fine. My shot.” It bounces off the rim but successfully goes in. His smile is devilish.

“I don’t want to play this game anymore.”

“Aw, not my fault you’re losing. Another secret. I’ll go a little easier on you. What’s typically your type?”

Harry rubbed his jaw. “Physically, I like a guy who’s shorter than me. I like being able to hold someone. I love a genuine smile, nice arms…” He waggled his brows. “Nice butt.”

Louis cocked his hip. “You describing me personally?”

“Well, look at that. Seems you fit within that category.”

Harry’s next shot went in - finally - and he made Louis describe his favorite positions in bed. It was unbearably awkward, but obvious payback for asking about his favorite type of porn, so he took it in stride, explaining in great detail about his love for the sex swing, and his demonstration made Harry laugh so hard, he was nearly in tears.

The game went on, each question more embarrassing than the next, and Louis was relieved - and surprised - that no one from inside the mansion bothered to come outside to steal Harry from him.

After Harry’s sixth missed shot, Louis scoffed, “I thought you said you played basketball in college. This is humiliating. For you, anyway.”

“I’m  _ distracted _ ,” he said, frustrated. Without another word, he dropped the basketball to the ground and pushed Louis backward up against the basketball pole. “Can you blame me?”

Louis idly scratched the metal behind him with his fingernail and pretended to not affected. “Distracted over what?”

“How am I supposed to make a single successful shot with you standing there in a suit that looks like it was basically painted on and discussing your  _ sex _ life?”

“What, are you you 14-years-old? Can’t take a little talk about sex without crying about it?”

“No. Just.” He slid his hands around Louis’ waist and held him there. “Wildly attracted to you.”

Louis exhaled, unaware he was holding his breath. “Kind of hard to do anything about that here, don’t you think?”

“We can make do.” His right hand left its position from Louis’ hip and slid up into his hair. He tangled his fingers in before he leaned in to kiss him, pressing the entire length of his body up against Louis’, and Louis was nearly whining at the way Harry’s breath mingled with his own, the way Harry’s tongue slid into his mouth, the way Harry gripped onto him, possessively and safely.

It was a scorching kiss, one that left Louis simultaneously satisfied and desperate for more, and when Harry pulled away, his hands dragging up and down his back, Louis had to close his eyes at the intensity of Harry’s gaze.

And even without a date for the week, Louis was still the first one called to accept a rose at the rose ceremony later that night, securing his safety for yet another seven days. As Harry pinned the rose to Louis’ lapel, he leaned in and whispered, “Were you serious about the sex swing thing?”

Obviously not, but now Louis had to play along. “Wouldn't you like to know?”

“I would, actually.”

The way Harry said it, fists clenched and eyes wide, made Louis’ cheeks burn and his throat go dry and three days later, Harry is still completely under his skin and Louis’ not sure he's ever going to be able to get rid of him.

Christ, it wasn’t enough. It’s  _ not _ enough. And he wants more.

Louis wakes up on the first day of Week Three by Cam ripping his blankets off of him and pinching his bare chest.

“What the  _ fuck _ was that for?!”

“Come on,  _ up, _ Tommo. Date card is here.”

He pulls the blankets back up. “What time is it. It feels like I just fell asleep. No way am I getting up. I’m too tired and this is what dying feels like.”

“Biggest drama queen I’ve ever known,  _ up. _ ” He pulls off the blankets again, and then yanks them off the bed all of the way, dropping them on the floor.

“Worst human  _ ever _ ,” Louis calls out as Cam heads out the door, middle finger up over his shoulder.

He grabs a sweatshirt and heads downstairs, joining the shrinking group of now 14 other men. They’re all standing in the kitchen and he stands next to Bryce, leaning against the refrigerator door.

Casey reads the card to the group. “Cam, Jay, Michael,  _ Casey _ \- hey, that’s me! - Louis, and Alec, what will you let stand in the way of love? Harry.”

At the mention of his name, he stands up a little straighter and looks around the room. “Well, boys, it looks like we’re going on a date tonight. Who’s ready?”

Michael looks like he would rather swallow poison than go on a date with Louis by his side, and Louis takes that in stride.

He’s  _ back _ .

 

Harry shows up an hour later in sweatpants and a sweatshirt, hair pushed back by a Nike headband. He rubs his hands together. “Who’s ready to fuck shit up?”

Lydia scoffs from behind her camera. “Try that one again.”

“Who’s ready to have an enjoyable, G rated day, friends?”

Louis pumps his fist in the air. “I am, Harry! Woo-hoo! A lovely day to play in the sun!”

She rolls her eyes again as Harry nearly snorts. “You two are the absolute worst people here, I swear. Get out of my face.”

Harry leans forward to high five Louis, fingers lingering on Louis’ palm for a second too long, then pats Lydia on the back. “You’re always so tense.”

“Yeah, because I have to deal with  _ you _ .”

“I’ll try not to take offense to that.” He rubs his hands together again. “Who’s ready to get their game on?” He turns to Lydia and the other producers. “Better?”

“Good enough.”

“Alright, let’s head out.”

The group of them pile into a van and make their way down the mansion driveway, turning left out of it, and they drive for about twenty minutes until they stop in front of a dirt road.

“Men,” Harry says very seriously, “it’s war.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Did you know I’ve been deemed most dramatic of the bunch? It’s like none of them have ever met you before.”

Harry covers Louis’ face with his hand and shoves him out of the way. “I  _ said. _ It’s war.”

They all jump out of the van single file, Louis trying not to be too obvious that he’s stalling so he can walk beside Harry uninterruptedly. He kicks some dirt and rocks with his foot, looking up at the sky, whistling. “Any day now, Styles.”

He laughs and climbs out of the van, sliding the door shut behind him. “You waiting for me?”

“No, waiting for Casey. Where’d he go?”

He smiles. “You’re a jackass.”

“I missed you, too.”

Louis starts to take off, following the other men, but Harry grabs his elbow and pulls him back. “I  _ did _ miss you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He nods. “I’m excited for this date. It’s a little more your speed.”

“So, you’re  _ not _ gonna make me nearly throw up from terror?”

“Nah, not today.”

“That’s good to know, thanks.”

“No problem.” He shrugs. “Wish I could have you to myself, though. Just for a little bit.”

“You say that to all the boys?”

“No.” His tone is firm and his gaze is unwavering, searching Louis’ face for any sign of uneasiness.

“Well. You’ll get me to yourself at the end, yeah? That’s usually how these bloody group dates work?”

“Mhm. Usually. But  _ this _ group date, you have to  _ win _ to see me later.”

“What’s that now?”

“Have you not been listening? I told you. It’s fucking war.”

Louis looks around behind him and for the first time, notices a sign. He laughs. “Harry, are we…”

“Look alive, Tommo. It’s paintball time. Make sure you’re on the winning team if you don’t want to go home early tonight.” He smacks him playfully on the ass and starts to jog off. “Go change. I’ll be the cute one on the field all in black,” he calls over his shoulder.

“I highly doubt that!” he yells back. “And yes, I  _ am _ ready to fuck shit up!”

Lydia stamps her feet from behind the camera, Dale grumbling, as well. “Louis, for the love of God, knock it off! Do you know how much editing we have to do because of you?!”

“Just keeping life interesting for everyone,” he says, taking off after Harry.

 

Louis, Casey, and Alec make up the red team; Cam, Michael, and Jay make up the blue team. Harry, indeed, wears all black, and stands in the center of the field, paintball gun in hand, facial expression firm and unyielding, obviously exaggerated. He breaks, though, when he sees the red team step out onto the field, all three men in their battle gear, complete with black warpaint under their eyes in thick, heavy lines.

“Where’d you find the black paint?!”

Alec shrugs. “Ask the crazy one.”

“Louis, where’d you steal that from?”

Louis puts his hand to his chest and gasps in fake astonishment. “Why’d you assume it was me who he was talking about and not Casey?!”

Harry makes a face and rolls his eyes. “I’m sure that isn’t a serious question.”

He continues to pout. “Whatever, Styles. Let’s move on.”

He smiles. “Anyway. As you can see, we’re obviously playing a nice,  _ friendly _ round of paintball today. Object of the game is to hit the opposing team as many times as you can, whilst protecting yourself. The more paint you have on you by the end, the worse off you are. And pay attention, because I’m going to be switching back and forth between the two teams, so be aware. Be stealth, be smart, be quick on your feet.” He rubs his hands together. “Oh, and keep in mind that the losing team has to go home immediately following the game, and the winners will stay here with me. God speed.”

“Look at him, what a smug bastard,” Louis says under his breath.

“I can hear you.”

“Well, I wasn’t whispering.” He turns to Casey and Alec. “Okay, we need a strategy.”

Alec nods. “Actually, I used to be on a paintball team. For fun, but, it’s something.”

“Oh!” Louis slaps Alec on the back. “My man, Alec! Perfect. What’ve you got for us?”

“Alright, so you’d think that separating and splitting up would make it harder for them to target us. However, if we stay clumped together, we’ll always have an eye out at all times. No surprise sneak attacks on us.”

Casey nods. “Exactly. And we only break apart if they start to target us as a whole.”

Louis rubs his hands together. “‘kay. All sounds great. Bring it in.” They all put their hands on top of one other’s, and Louis pauses. “Wait, so, like, when you get hit, does it hurt?”

Casey smirks. “You’ve never played before, have you?”

He winces. “No?”

Alec laughs. “Oh, good, the fastest one of the group has no fucking idea what he’s doing.”

“I’m a quick study! I can figure it out!”

“I hope so, and you better learn  _ now. _ ”

“Okay, but no one answered me, does it hurt when you get shot?!”

Alec backs up several yards and instead of answering, he holds up his gun and shoots Louis directly in the leg.

“What the  _ fuck _ was that?! Son of a bitch!” Louis screams, jumping from foot to foot.

“Did it hurt?”

“ _ Yes, _ you fucking dick! Oh my God!”

“Good, now you have all the more reason to want to run. Because let me tell you, paintball gun welts do  _ not _ feel great.”

“You think?!” He rubs his shin through his gear, which does next to nothing to help the sting. “Also, you just wasted a shot on your own team, so, good going, jackass.”

“It’s fine,” Alec says, waving his hands around. “Look at the other team. Jay is, like, the least athletic person I’ve ever known and Michael is acting like he’s never been outside before.”

Louis peers over at the blue team. Alec is right. Jay’s flushed from just putting on his equipment, and Michael is looking directly into the barrel of the gun, trying to figure out how to work it. Fucking idiot.

He turns back to Alec and Casey. “So, Cam is really the only threat then, yeah?”

Casey nods. “Seems that way.”

“Okay, so, we’ll target him, and the other two will just be an added bonus.”

“It’s a plan.” Alec shifts his gun from one hand to the other. “Don’t forget to watch out for Harry.”

“How will we know when he’s on our team and when he isn’t?” Casey asks.

And as if on cue, a buzzer goes off loudly, an announcer’s voice booming through the loudspeaker, “Blue team’s advantage.”

Louis hosts his gun up over his shoulder. “Alright, boys, it’s currently four against three. Operation: destroy Styles.”

“That’s not the object of the game!” Harry calls out from the other side of the field.

“It is right now. You said it yourself, kid, this is war.”

 

Over the next 60 minutes, Louis, Casey, and Alec run in and out of hiding spots around the field, taking aim at their opposing team, and even though they didn’t give much credit to Cam and Company, they’re handing it to them now. Jay was clearly playing dumb, because he’s their strongest teammate, shooting at them before they even know what’s happening.

Funnily enough, the worst one is Harry, and Louis outwardly groans whenever the buzzer goes off, signaling his switch to their team. He’s so fucking slow, can’t pick up the pace to race with the rest of them, and he always seems to give their hiding spot away, sticking his head out in wide open space at the exact wrong moment, blowing their cover. He’s more of a burden, than anything, and being four against three ends up being a disadvantage. At one point, Casey actually highfives Louis behind Harry’s back as the buzzer goes off, Harry switching to the other team.

His arms are sore, so fucking sore from holding up this ridiculously heavy gun for so long, and every time he gets shot, his whole body aches with the sting of it. It’s honestly a shitty date, all things considering, but whenever Harry trips over himself or laughs so hard he snorts, or purposefully grabs Louis’ arm on the way by, baking in the LA sun with paintball equipment strapped to his body doesn’t seem nearly as bad as it did before.

They have about 90 seconds left on the clock, Harry’s on their team, and based on appearances and amount of paintballs left in their possession, it seems like the score is fairly close. Louis genuinely has no idea if they’re on top or not.

He reaches under his helmet and wipes the sweat from his forehead, dangerously close to dripping into his eyes, and he peers over at the timer, seeing that they have less than a minute left. Christ, he just wants to lay down.

But then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Cam positioning himself to take his shot. Louis can tell by the way he’s aiming that it isn’t at him, but it’s at someone on his team. He straightens his back and looks around the corner, and there stands Harry, helpless and oblivious, like a damn baby deer in the woods, unaware he’s about to be hunted down. Absolutely pathetic.

Louis gives it about five seconds of thought before he reacts. He could ignore it, he could shoot Cam in retaliation, he could scream Harry’s name to get his attention. Instead, he does the most over-the-top thing he can think of: he dives in front of Harry whilst shrieking like he’s on fire just as Cam pulls the trigger.

He can hear Cam hysterically laughing before he even hits the ground, and Alec screaming, “If we just lost because of that, you’re dead fucking meat, Tommo!”

The final buzzer goes off. The game is over. Thank God.

He looks down to see where he was hit, and he can’t believe it was fucking red paint, splattered all over his chest. He lets his head fall back against the dirt. “Harry,” he murmurs out, weakening his voice. He reaches out. “They got me, baby.”

Harry has tears in his own eyes he’s laughing so hard. “You took a bullet for me.”

He gestures at his chest. “Right in the heart. Look at all this blood.”

“Oh my God.” He’s laughing even harder now. “My true hero.”

“The end is near. I see the light.”

“You’re too pretty to die, I’ll help you up.”

“Thank you,” he croaks out, standing to his feet and adding in a limp for good measure, wobbling for no apparent reason. “Oh, and Harry?”

“Yes, dear?”

“You suck at paintball.”

 

Louis, Alec, and Casey end up winning, even with Louis’ idiotic move at the very end, and he’d like to say he’s sad to watch the blue team make their way back on the van, but, well, he isn’t.

 

Before they leave for part two of the date, Lydia pulls Louis aside for a quick interview and he dramatically coughs up some dirt before he starts speaking.

“Today was a tough day,” he says, blinking into the sunlight. “I had a near death experience.”

She puts her hands on her hips. “Honestly, Louis.”

“But it was worth it, to keep my boy alive.”

He can hear Harry laughing from inside the van. “What would I have ever done without you?” he calls out through the closed window.

“Keeled over and died, probably. Useless on the battlefield, you were.”

“Okay, no more, get in the van.”

He turns back to the camera. “You heard him. Let’s move.”

It’s the most informal of dates yet. None of them shower after paintballing, so there’s dirt and smears of paint stuck to them everywhere, welts and bruises forming across their skin from where they’d been shot, and they all put their sweatpants and t-shirts back on instead of putting on a suit like usual.

They make their way to a rooftop pool, which isn’t too far out of the ordinary, but instead of a fancy sit down dinner that typically accompanies dates on  _ The Bachelor _ , there are boxes of pizza and containers of Chinese food spread out before them. Louis thinks he could tear up, he’s so pleased.

They all settle in, Louis immediately grabbing for a slice of buffalo chicken pizza, and he pulls his knees up to his chest on the chair, eating happily. It’s a bit odd to be on a date with Harry and two other guys, but it’s better than the alternative of not being here at all, so he takes it in stride and reaches for a second piece.

They eat and joke and drink, awkwardness and tension not really there, and it’s completely dark out by the time they’re all reaching for the bathing suits that they were instructed to bring.

Louis heads into the bathroom and pulls them over his hips, looking at himself in the full length mirror. The black war paint is smeared all across his cheekbones and there are splatters of yellow and green paint on his neck and hands. What really stands out, though, is the enormous welt raised off of his chest, right above his heart. It’s tender to touch, and every time he twists  _ just right, _ he winces. Swimming isn’t an option now, no way.

Damn paintball.

He heads back outside and sees Alec, Casey, and Harry already in the pool, water illuminated by an underwater light. He sits on the edge, letting his feet dangle in. It’s cool, but comfortable, and he wiggles his toes. He looks up when he sees Harry making his way over to him.

“Not coming in?”

Louis shrugs. “My chest kinda hurts from earlier. Not sure I want to irritate it anymore.”

Harry nods. “Okay. Come with me.” He hoists himself out of the pool, his back muscles taut, and once he’s standing, dripping wet onto the pavement, he reaches down for Louis’ hand. “Up.”

He gets to his feet, using Harry’s hand for balance, and follows him around the side of the building. There’s a hot tub bubbling and he can nearly feel the steam from 20 feet away. They climb in together, Louis doing his best to ignore the fact that he has an audience of crew members, as well as Alec and Casey positioning themselves so they can peek around from their position in the pool.

The water is  _ hot _ but feels incredible on his sore muscles. He closes his eyes and leans back, letting the jets do their job, letting his legs tangle with Harry’s. They sit there in silence for a while, Louis loses track of time entirely, but opens his eyes when he feels Harry’s hand on his leg.

“Can I help you?”

Harry smirks. “Wanted to make sure you hadn’t just died on me.”

“Nope, still alive and kicking.”

“That’s good to hear, especially after your near death experience in the battle zone today.”

Louis laughs. “It’s true. Almost died earlier.”

“It was very honorable,” he replies, stroking his thumb along the inside of Louis’ thigh. “Should get you a medal.”

“It would look good on me.”

“Mmm, most things do.”

He shakes his head. “Your lines are so cheesy.”

“But they work for you.”

“Sometimes,” he admits.

Harry moves in closer and drags his fingers across Louis’ chest. “You do realize Cam was only, like, ten feet away when he shot his gun, right?”

“No, actually, I didn’t. I wouldn’t have dived in front of the damn gun if I knew.”

“Aw, and here I was, thinking you were being a hero.”

He laughs, but the strain on his chest makes him wince. “Shit.”

Harry frowns. “Okay, you’re actually hurt, and I don’t like that.”

“It’s alright, it’ll be good as new in the morning.”

“I don’t know about that.” He traces over the welt gently with his thumb. “You took a bullet for me.”

Louis snorts. “It was paint, Harry.”

“No, you took a bullet for me.”

“Okay, fine. I took a bullet for you.”

“I  _ know _ .” He bends forward slowly, his breath hot against Louis’ chest. He tentatively drags his lips across the bruised welt, kissing the spot gently, working his way up to Louis’ neck, his jaw. Louis is completely still, frozen. Harry pulls back and grips Louis’ wrists. “C’mere.”

Louis slides himself on top of Harry’s lap and puts his own hands on Harry’s chest. He can’t come up with any words to say before he presses his forehead against Harry’s, closing his eyes, rocking forward slightly. Harry groans and grips at Louis’ back, surging up to kiss him, and Louis can’t do anything other than let it happen.

Over the past couple of weeks, Louis has become familiar with the way Harry tastes, the way he likes to be kissed, the way he cradles Louis’ head when he  _ really _ wants him, and it’s a lot, knowing  _ he’s _ lucky enough to get Harry like this, to know his ins and his outs, to feel him growing harder underneath him with every swipe of the tongue and rock of his hips.

He digs his fingernails into Harry’s chest, stomach clenching when he hears Harry’s breathing change into something deeper and raspier, and he opens his mouth more, tongue sliding against Louis’, hands gripping at any part of him he can reach. It’s like Harry’s mapping out his entire body with his own and Louis wants to curl up into himself from the intensity of it.

If he doesn’t force himself to slow it down right now, he won’t have the willpower to do it later, so he reluctantly pulls back, Harry’s grip tightening on his back, his breathing labored.

“Cameras. And things,” he manages to grit out, trying to make sure his own hard on isn’t noticeable.

Harry’s lips are parted, the end of his curls are wet from the water, his waterline a little bit red from chlorine irritation, and Louis isn’t sure he’s ever been so attracted to him. Harry clears his throat. “Yeah. And things.”

Louis rocks forward again, and the friction is so good, he has to do it one more time. “Want you,” he murmurs under his breath, unable to stop himself.

Harry nearly whines at that, hands gripping at Louis’ waist tighter even tighter. “Could nearly lose my mind thinking about you, I swear to God, Louis.”

“Shit.” He leans forward and kisses him again, can’t help it, keeping his palm pressed flat against Harry’s chest. His heart is beating like crazy, and that only encourages Louis to kiss him deeper.

Harry’s the one to pull away first this time, kissing just below Louis’ ear instead. “We have to get out,” he whispers.

He groans. “Don’t wanna.”

“I don’t either.” He slides his hands down Louis’ sides and around to his back, palming at his ass. “Not gonna be able to stop thinking about you later.”

Louis swallows. “The feeling is mutual.”

Harry drops his hands reluctantly back into the water, causing a small splash. “Okay. Okay, gotta cut this shit out.” He tries to laugh but it comes out sounding slightly hysterical.

“Yeah, let’s get out. I’ll go eat more Chinese food and pretend I’m actually hungry.”

Harry forces out a smile. “You go first. I wanna watch you walk away.”

“Oi, you perv.” But he climbs off of Harry, out of the hot tub, and sways his hips way more than he normally would, Harry whistling behind him.

 

Louis doesn’t get the rose at the end of the date - that goes to Alec - but he  _ does _ receive the first rose of the night at the cocktail party two days later, and when Harry pins it to his lapel, he whispers so quietly, Louis almost misses it, “Thank you for saving me,” and Louis isn’t sure if he’s referencing paintball or something else entirely.   
  


* * *

They get the news that they’re flying to Vail, Colorado, and Louis is ecstatic. He’s never been to Vail before, and he’s heard the skiing and snowboarding conditions are supposed to be excellent this time of year. He assumes their group date will be on the mountain, and for the first time since this whole thing started, he actually  _ hopes _ to be on the group date.

They arrive in Colorado early Thursday morning after a short flight, and his name  _ is _ called for the group date. It’s a mountain date, just like he figured, and when Harry arrives at their hotel, bundled up in a heavy fur jacket, Louis wastes no time in telling Harry how excited he is, solely for the reason that they’re heading to the mountains.

Harry laughs. “So, it has nothing to do with me?”

“Absolutely not. I just want to ski.”

“Glad we got that cleared up.”

“I concur.”

The group of six, plus Harry, load up into the van, their snow pants and jackets making them look like they’ve each gained an additional 15 pounds, and when they arrive at the bottom of the mountain, Louis audibly gasps.

It’s positively breathtaking, like the scene out of a movie. There’s a gentle snowfall, families all around are gearing up to hit the slopes, and the peak of the mountain is hidden behind a layer of clouds, high up in the sky. Louis breathes into his hands, warming them up, unable to tear his eyes away from the beauty before him.

“Gentlemen,” Harry starts, looking around the van, “today, we ski.”

Louis nudges Elliott with his elbow. “Race you to the bottom. Loser buys the winner hot chocolate with Bailey’s.”

He snorts. “Deal.”

Everyone climbs out, stretching and shaking out the ache in their bones from the car ride, and they make their way to the bottom of the mountain, each strapping on their skis, size determined earlier in the day. He’s clicking his boots into the skis when he feels Harry come up behind him.

“You gonna spend the day on the bunny slope, Styles?”

Harry laughs. “Yeah, I am. Actually, we all are.”

Louis stands up straight. “Pardon?”

He backs up. “Hey, everyone. Don’t get too excited yet.” He points to tiny hill to his right, itty, bitty snowbunnies wobbling on and off of the magic carpet conveyor. “First, we’re going to be teaching that group of 4-year-olds the basics. And go easy on them, it’s their very first time  _ ever _ skiing.”

Louis puts his face into his hands. “Harry! Oh,  _ God, _ these poor kids. They have to deal with the lot of idiots.”

He smirks. “I’m sure they’ll survive.”

“Uh, they’d better.” He puts his gloves back on and groans. “I judge you, honestly, for thinking this was a good idea. Actually, I blame their parents. What stable minded adult would think it’s all fine and dandy to give their kid to a stranger on a reality TV show to teach them how to slide down a mountain with slippery sticks tied to their feet?!”

“Wow, really not giving the sport of skiing a good name, there Lou.  _ Or _ their parents.”

“I’m just  _ saying _ .” He grabs his poles and starts to push forward. “If one of them falls and breaks something, I’m suing you.”

“ _ You’re _ gonna sue me?”

“You heard me.”

Harry laughs. “Okay, you’re gonna need to relax. The hill is barely even a hill. It’s, like, a baby incline. No one’s going to get hurt, and after the lesson is over, we can all head up to the top in the gondola and have a grand ol’ time.”

“Ugh. The gondola.”

“Are you afraid of that, too?!”

“What don’t you understand about a fear of heights, Harry?!”

“How else did you expect to get to the top of the mountain?”

“Teleportation, obviously. Or maybe I can work on materializing.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Okay, well you work on  _ that, _ and I’m gonna go join the rest of the guys and teach a bunch of adorable, rosy-cheeked preschoolers how to ski.”

Louis clutches his heart. “Hit me right where it hurts the most,  _ okay, _ I’m coming.”

 

As it turns out, the kids are tougher than the men are. Louis is paired with a redhead named George, and when he asks George if he’s nervous, his response is, “No… Why, are you?”

Louis laughs. “A little, yeah. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

George looks down at himself. “I’m wearing so many coats, I think that even if I fell, it would be like landing on a giant cushion. So. You can relax.”

His eyes went wide at that and he turned to Lydia. “Did you pair me with  _ myself _ ?”

She cocked a brow. “Funny, hmm?”

“Yeah, for  _ you _ maybe.” He turns his attention back to George. “Alright, what do you know so far?”

“That these are really hard to kick off,” he says, pointing at his boots.

Louis holds back another laugh. “You’re right. They’re pretty tight. But that’s for a reason. Watch.” Louis leans forward in his own boots, body going forward but feet going nowhere. “It’s so if you lean forward and backward and side to side, your skis stay put.”

“Oh. Like cement.”

“A bit, yeah. Just, easier to work with.” Louis snaps off his own skis, then crouches down next to George. “But, if you fall, these clips here will release, which is a good thing, because falling down and then getting all tangled up in skis would hurt.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I would like that.” He frowns. “Am I gonna fall?”

“Maybe. Probably, actually. But that’s okay. Because the first fall is the scariest, but after that, it’s cake.” He vaguely hears Lydia mumble under her breath about how perfect that line is for the show and she couldn’t have written it better herself, but he ignores her, flipping her off inside his glove as if she can see it.

“Mmm. I like cake.”

Louis laughs and puts his skis back on. “Don’t we all. Alright, George. Let me show you how to snowplow.”

 

For the next 90 minutes, Louis takes the lead, showing George how to glide from left to right, how to fall without hurting himself, how to stop, how stand up, how to gain speed, and how to load onto the magic carpet ski lift safely. It’s going fairly well, and George seems to be enjoying it, only complaining about being cold and having to pee seven or eight times, respectable for a 4-year-old. He’s helping him onto the lift for what feels like the millionth time when Harry skis up next to them.

“Seems like it’s been going pretty well so far.”

Louis nods. “Yeah, you been watching?”

“Mhm. Just making sure you didn’t let George break any bones, here.”

George turns to Harry. “Um, please don’t let him break my bones.”

Louis smiles. “I want to keep him, I think.”

“I’m spoken for!”

“Shh, George, on the lift you go.” He makes sure George has his feet steady on the moving platform and then turns back to Harry. “How’re the other guys doing?”

“For the most part, decent. Poor Matt, though…”

“Why, what’s wrong with Matt?” He looks across the bunny slope and sees Matt with his 4-year-old in addition to an actual ski instructor. “Wait, why does he have genuine help?”

“Because apparently, Matt is more useless than his preschooler and  _ she _ ended up teaching  _ him. _ It didn’t occur to me that some of you might lack basic athleticism skills.”

Louis pretends to be offended. “ _ I _ am not in that category, Harold. I can hold my own. And George is basically ready for the double black diamond at this point, all thanks to me.” They both look up just in time to watch George trip and fall off the end of the conveyor belt, face first into the snow. “Okay, maybe not  _ double _ black diamond. Regular black diamond could probably suffice. George! I’m coming!” he calls out, taking off up the hill, and he can’t stop smiling at the way Harry is hysterically laughing behind him.

 

The rest of the morning goes by without a hitch. Louis (reluctantly) says goodbye to his redheaded partner in crime and they split into two groups to take the gondolas up to the peak of the mountain.

Louis swallows when he sees the height of the mountain, sunlight glistening at the top. He shakes his head. “This is dumb, yeah?” he says out loud to no one in particular. “We’re perfectly secure in this Godforsaken metal swinging contraption a hundred feet in the air and nothing is going to happen.”

Lydia says something first. “Babe, if you can hike the Golden Gate Bridge, then you can do this. You don’t even have to move. Just sit there and close your eyes.”

He takes a deep breath through his nose. “That’s what she said.”

“Oh, for the love of God.”

He’s ready to load into the first gondola with Elliott, Matt, and Daniel - Harry back in group two - with shaky hands and erratic breathing when he hear Harry say behind him, “Sorry, guys, gotta hitch a ride in the first gondola. I’ll see you all at the top.” His hands are bare, but warm, when he places his palm against Louis’ neck, squeezing. “No more dates with heights, okay?”

Louis forces out a breathy laugh. “That would be swell.”

Matt leans forward. “Tommo, how do you expect us to have a race to the bottom if it takes a full team to get you  _ up _ the mountain?”

He shrugs. “Was hoping I wouldn’t be nervous this time around, but here we are.”

The gondola takes the turn and inches toward them, doors open. Harry nudges him. “Go ahead, Lou. Climb in. I’ve got you.”

The five of them slide in together, camera crew holding back, and Louis is relieved for the break. But then he catches the cameras in each corner of the gondola, ready to catch another fine moment of his, and he groans.

Harry leans in close and whispers quiet enough that the other guys can’t hear, “This is much easier than the bridge. We’re sitting. And we don’t have to move. You’re good.” He puts his hand on Louis’ knee, and even though Louis can barely feel it through the snow pants, it’s a comfort, anyway. “So fucking good.”

He keeps whispering things to him the entire way up, a lot of it stupid or meaningless, but it does the trick, and Louis couldn’t care less about the way the other guys are staring at him, not when he has Harry’s breath against his cheek and words trapped in his mind.

 

The mountain air is freezing, nearly steals your oxygen, but the beauty around it is enough to compensate.

The group of them fuck around at the top for a bit, Louis stuffing snow down Matt’s back, and Daniel laughs, saying it’s like they’re on a weird, sexually charged field trip for adult men.

Louis snorts at that, because how true, and proceeds to shove more snow into Matt’s coat.

The rest of the night is fantastic; the powder is fresh, the gondola isn’t too bad as long as he has someone there with him to distract him from the height, and there’s  _ dog sledding, _ for God’s sake. It’s a kick ass date - right up there amongst his favorite things to do - with one exception: he hasn’t seen Harry in nearly three hours.

He stands outside of the lodge, camera on his face, talking to Lydia and the rest of the crew. “Yeah, this date has been  _ amazing _ so far,” he says, breath visible in the cold air. “Like, absolutely sick. I’ve never seen something so beautiful before. Haven’t seen much of Harry though.” He points over his shoulder. “I’m hoping he’s in the lodge. I’m gonna go find him, if you’ll excuse me.”

He takes off his skis and heads inside the lodge, making Elliott pay for his hot chocolate with Bailey’s, when he finally spots Harry out of the corner of his eye, taking off his helmet and shaking his curls loose. Louis whistles, grabbing Harry’s attention, and he waves him over.

Harry walks over, heavy boots clunking with each step, cheeks rosy. “Good day so far?”

Louis nods. “Yeah. Elliott here is buying me hot chocolate. I bet it’ll taste like first place.”

Elliott rolls his eyes. “Take it, you brat.”

He inhales the steam. “Mmm. Smells like a champion’s drink.”

Harry smirks. “So, you’ve been good on the gondola and stuff, right?”

He takes a sip of his drink and nods. “Yup. Matt and Elliott have been taking care of me.”

“Oh.” Harry shuffles on his feet. “Okay. That’s. That’s good.”

“Yeah… It  _ is _ good.”

“I know, that’s what I said. It’s fucking awesome.”

“Okay, then…”

Elliott looks back and forth between them a couple of times, clearly uncomfortable, before saying, “Alright, I’m gonna grab some food. I think I saw Jay come in. You guys should come join us.”

Harry nods. “Okay.” He waits until Elliott is out of earshot and turns to Louis. “Hey, come upstairs with me for a bit.”

“Upstairs?” He cocks his brow. “You got a sex lair up there, Styles?”

“Yeah, something like that. C’mon.”

The lodge on the second level has been closed off to the public, obviously being reserved for use of  _ The Bachelor _ only. And the set up is impeccable, as always. The couches are significantly nicer than the ones in the main lodge, there are candles and roses - surprise, surprise - around the room, and the fireplace is lit, making the room warmer and cozier, which is actually nice.

Louis pulls off his boots, snowpants, and jacket, Harry doing the same, and they sit down on one of the couches together, fire crackling.

Harry puts his hand on Louis’ knee. “You’ve been pretty much in your element today, huh?”

“Kids, snow, and alcoholic hot chocolate. I’d say so.”

He smiles. “I didn’t see a lot of you today, though.”

“Eh, thought I’d give the other boys a chance with you.”

Harry laughs wholeheartedly, dimple popping out, and Louis smiles, too. “You’re just that confident, huh?”

“Should I not be?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. I’ve really taken a liking to Dale,” he says, gesturing towards the camera crew.

“Funny, that. Me, too. Gonna have to fight me for him.”

Harry’s still smiling when he reaches out and touches Louis’ chin. “Is that what his scar is from? Fighting over boys?”

Louis snorts. “I  _ wish. _ No, my sister stabbed me with a fork when I was seven.”

“Any reason in particular for the attack?”

“I doubt it. She was, like, one at the time.”

“Oh my God, a  _ baby _ stabbed you?!”

“Alright, I don’t care for that tone.” He pushes Harry’s hand off of him. “You show me a scar, then. Let’s see if your story is better.”

Harry smirks and lolls his head to the side, exposing his neck. “This mark right here, below my ear.”

Louis leans in close. “I see it. What happened?”

“It definitely rivals your story. My sister wanted to straighten my hair when I was about 14 and she clearly miscalculated.”

He laughs. “You win. That’s worse.”

“I thought so.” He takes Louis’ hand again, looking down, tracing his fingers over Louis’ knuckles. “What’s this scar from?”

Louis looks down, too, and sees that he’s tracing over a faint white line on his pinky knuckle. “That one’s less humiliating than being nearly stabbed to death than a toddler.”

“Okay, let’s hear it.”

“A nail almost went all the way through my hand. I was helping my stepfather build a closet in the new house and I just wasn’t paying attention and… Oops.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, definitely didn’t feel great.”

Harry keeps tracing over the mark in slow, steady motions. Neither of them say anything for a moment, until Harry clears his throat. “I, uh. Sorry for being kind of a dick downstairs.”

Louis frowns. “Seriously, what was that about?”

He drops his head against the back of the couch, still gripping Louis’ hand. “Just. Something ugly.”

“Does that something happen to rhyme with shmealousy?”

Harry snorts and sits back up. “Okay, yes, and I’m embarrassed.”

“What could  _ you _ possibly have to be jealous about? If anything, it should be  _ me. _ ”

“Yeah, exactly, you just…” He exhales. “You make me fucking  _ crazy _ . You say that some other guy is taking care of you and, like.” He runs his fingers through his hair with his free hand. “You’re mine to take care of.”

“You’re just that confident?” he echoes, voice wobbling, and if Harry notices, he doesn’t mention it.

He whines. “Stop teasing me.”

“But it’s so  _ easy, _ love.”

Harry lets go of Louis’ hand and touches his cheek instead. “Yeah. Really easy.” He doesn’t say anything else before he starts to lean in, Louis meeting him in the middle.

It’s really slow and gentle, this kiss, not like any of the other ones they’ve shared thus far, and Louis melts into it. Harry’s hands are in his hair, on the back of his neck, dragging up and down his arms, and just like that, Louis believes him when he says that he’s his to take care of.

He pushes into it more, climbing up onto his knees, straddling Harry’s lap, and Harry exhales harshly, pulling Louis into him, mouth opening more to taste one another. He’s impatient, wanting something he can’t have, and that, in turn, causes him to be a little bit bitey, a little too harsh in his movements, but if only seems to encourage Harry. His own movements become frantic, hands moving up underneath Louis’ shirt, digging into his muscles, and Louis has to actively hold back a moan when he accidentally grinds down  _ just right, _ Harry’s hips bucking up into it, murmuring  _ Baby _ against his lips.

They both pull back at exactly the same time when they hear someone coming up the stairs, and Louis scrambles off of Harry’s lap, his heart racing. This has to be the cruelest situation he’s ever been in, and by the time Jay’s head has popped up from around the corner, Louis has already thought of four ways to kill him, painfully and slowly.

“Hi, Jay,” Harry says, voice strangled. “Lou, I’ll see you downstairs?”

“Yep. I’ll be down there.”  _ Thinking about cutting off Jay’s limbs one by one with rusty scissors. Wouldn’t want it to be quick and easy. _

“Okay, I’ll see you in a bit.”

_ Or maybe I can throw him into a stampede of wild animals. I’ll Mufasa him. _ “Yup. See you then.”

 

Matt gets the group date rose, Harry explaining that he was such a good sport skiing when he had clearly never tried it before, either, and as Harry pins the rose to his sweater, Louis slouches back in his chair, closing his eyes.

Forget Jay. He’s gonna Mufasa  __ himself.  
  


* * *

The rest of week number four positively  _ blows. _ There’s another one-on-one date, this time with Derek, and through a game of telephone, Louis finds out they’ve spent the day at a vineyard before having dinner overlooking the mountains.

He lifts weights with Cam and Bryce to occupy his mind, imagining his muscles are now so big after one session that he can crush Zayn with a single punch for putting him in this situation.

Two days later, the group date card is dropped off, and Louis presses his palms into his eyes when his name isn’t called, even though he hadn’t expected to be, seeing as he just went on one a few days prior. It’s just.

It’s shit, is what it is.

It’s ridiculous, really, that he feels this impacted by all of it. Coming into this experience, he knew a lot of it would be awkward, a lot if it would be staged, a lot of it would it would be boring and stupid and not  _ him. _ It doesn’t make it any easier though, because truly, he wasn’t prepared. He has to bribe Lydia to let him call Zayn, saying it’s a medical emergency. She can tell it’s a lie, based on the way she rolls her eyes, but the urgency in his voice must set something off inside of her, because she hands him her private phone, anyway.

Zayn answers on the third ring. “Hello?”

“I don’t understand what’s happening to me.”

“Lou! Haven’t heard your voice in four weeks. It’s been amazing.”

“Piss off.”

“How’s it been so far?!”

“Oh, let’s see,” Louis hisses into the phone, “I went on  _ three _ dates with some guy I hardly know and I’m already in so deep, I want to lay down in traffic because of it, and it’s all  _ your _ fault.”

Zayn laughs. “Walk me through it.”

He huffs out a frustrated noise. “I don’t  _ get _ it. I knew we’d be compatible, at least as friends, if anything, but it’s really intense? It’s been a month and that shouldn’t be enough time to feel like I’m coming out of my skin like this, and I don’t know if it’s because I can’t fully have him and it pisses me off…” He pauses and looks down at the floor. “It doesn’t feel like a game anymore. And I feel like an idiot. I’m smarter than this. Right?”

“Lou, you’re  _ not _ stupid. Jesus, you’re one of the smartest people I know. Just relax, okay? You’re working yourself up over nothing.”

“It’s not  _ nothing _ , Zayn. If Harry was a guy I met in Chicago under normal circumstances…” He doesn’t know where he’s going with that sentence. He takes a deep breath. “It’s just frustrating to go on a few insane dates and have an incredible time and then have to go through radio silence. I don’t want to play by the rules, I want to do it  _ my _ way.”

“Okay, but these aren’t normal circumstances.”

“I know.”

“This isn’t you, Tomlinson.”

“I  _ know _ .”

“Get your shit together, okay? Harry isn’t going to want a whiny, bitchy Brit.”

“Nice pep talk, thank you.”

“You can always send yourself home if it’s too much, you know.”

Louis switches the ear from his right to his left. “Absolutely not.”

“And you think that this compatibility goes both ways?”

“Yes.” He’s sure of himself, even with 13 other potential dates. He’s sure they’re good together, so good. But. “Wait, what if he’s better with someone else and I just have no idea?”

“This is exhausting.”

“Yeah, trying being inside  _ my _ mind.”

“I’ll pass. Just. Don’t build up anything in your head, go with the flow, and be yourself. Be Louis, okay? You’ll be better than fine.”

Lydia taps him on the shoulder. “Alright, Tomlinson, all done.”

He sighs. “Zayn, I gotta go. Satan’s arrived.”

“Oh, very funny, give me the phone.”

“You’ll be fine,” Zayn repeats into the phone. “Call me again when you can. And Lou?”

“Zayn.”

“You don’t have to play by the rules.” He hangs up.

Louis hands the phone back to Lydia. “Your majesty.”

“Get out of here.”

He heads upstairs, feeling a little better, and walks into the empty bedrooms, four guys missing, out on their date with Harry. He looks around the room, repeating Zayn’s words in his head.  _ Be yourself. Be yourself. _ He doesn’t give it much more thought than that before he starts grabbing random items and hiding them in closets, various duffel bags, under beds, in between mattresses.

It makes him feel minisculey better, especially when the guys arrive home later and no one can find any of their things, confused and somehow missing Louis’ laughter from his bunk bed.   
  


* * *

The night after the second group date of the week is the rose ceremony, and Louis has so much pent up tension, he doesn’t know what to do with it all. He spends a comical amount of time getting ready, styling his hair three different ways before he settles on the style he had originally, down and swept out of his eyes, and he holds up nine -  _ nine _ \- different ties for Cam to choose between, to which his response is, “You’re out of your fucking mind, Tomlinson.”

He’s sitting in the common room, tapping his feet on the ground, his fingers against his thighs, and eventually, in between takes, Lydia approaches him.

“Are you okay?”

“Do I not seem okay?”

“You’re… A little antsy.”

His laugh is borderline hysterical. “Me? Antsy?”

“Lou, did something happen?”

His tapping quickens. “No. Just. This is more than I thought it would be, yeah?”

She nods. “I know.”

“ _ Do you, _ though? Like, I can’t even  _ focus. _ All rationality is out the window at this point.”

“It happens, believe me. Just get to the rose ceremony, have a drink,  _ relax. _ Then come back to the hotel and sleep for the next 15 hours. It’s just another rose ceremony, Louis. You’ve done this before.”

He purses his lips together. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It’s just another rose ceremony.”

 

Except. It’s not. And that’s very clear the second Harry walks through the door, suit tailored impeccably with the smile to match.

It’s like a flip has been switched on this past week. After their first date, he’d been hooked, yes, but it’s the mountain group date that  _ really _ did him in. It’s the fact that Harry made it extremely obvious that he wants him back, and that’s enough to have him spiraling.

It’s not all in his head. It  _ isn’t _ . That should be something that settles his nerves, rather than make him feel like his heart is about to beat out of his chest.

He sits very still from his spot on the couch, as patiently as ever, while Harry makes his rounds around the room, pulling Jonathan outside first, and Louis either needs a drink or to do a 5k around the block.

He can’t make himself get up to steal Harry away from the other guys like he’s done in prior rose ceremonies, or like it’s been done to him. Instead, he’s practically glued to this couch cushion in particular, glass of vodka nearly fused to his right hand, gaze stuck on the back door, frozen.

Harry spends time with each guy, some out by the hotel’s pool, some in the bonus room, some on the patio, and by the time he makes eyes with Louis at the very end of the night, Louis thinks if he concentrates hard enough, he could actually combust on the spot.

“Lou? Come with me?”

Louis forces his body to move, his legs to lift his weight, and he heads out the door with Harry, hands reaching out for one another the second they’re out of view of the other men.

Harry doesn’t lead them all the way outside; rather, they go into the room they’ve been using as a makeshift interview room. It backs with the main living room, and Louis can hear every conversation going on beyond the wall.

“Did you want to come in here to eavesdrop?”

Harry smiles. “No. Just wanted to go somewhere that people wouldn’t look for us.”

Louis swallows, pointing over Harry’s shoulder. “Did you conveniently forget about our crew?”

He takes a step closer, eyes flickering back and forth between Louis’ eyes and lips, unashamed. “They’re not going to tell on us.” The way he says it makes Louis shiver.

Louis takes a step backward, back hitting the wall behind him. “I’m glad you saved the best for last tonight.”

He clears his throat. “Had to.”

“Why’s that?”

His expression is so, so serious and Louis feels so exposed, like Harry can hear and see and touch all of his secrets. “Because I knew I wouldn’t be able to give you up once I had you.”

The way he’s staring at Louis is so blatantly obvious - hungry, almost - and Louis’ sure his expression isn’t much better. He reaches out and touches Harry’s waist. “You didn’t want to, just, I dunno, talk?”

Harry shakes his head. “Not really. Did you?”

“No.”

“Good.”

The instant Harry’s lips are on his, Louis can feel his tension leave his body. It’s like this is what he needed to calm his nerves, get his mind to stop screaming. He’s not sure what that says about himself, about his character, but he melts into it and pulls Harry in even closer, threading his fingers into Harry’s hair, pulling at the curls before he can stop himself.

Harry’s lips work against his in a way that’s starting to feel more and more familiar, his stomach clenching when Harry’s hands slide down to the small of his back, gripping and kneading his fingers in, like he wants to touch Louis’ everything.

And Louis lets him.

It grows a little sloppy from there. Harry pushes Louis flush up against the wall completely, grabbing his hands and holding them above his head, fingers curling together, and when the guys from the room next over all start laughing at something, Harry pushes his hips forward, grinding slightly.

Louis can’t take it, the way Harry tastes, the way he keeps touching him, the way his tongue keeps curling into his mouth just so. He’s hard, noticeably hard, and it’s not gonna take much for more than just Harry to notice.

When Harry pulls his mouth off of his - presumably to breathe - his cheeks are red, his lips are swollen and his curls are all completely pulled loose. Louis hadn’t realized he’d worked his way into his hair so much.

The men laugh at something again, louder this time, and Harry inhales harshly, dipping down to kiss at Louis’ neck, hands squeezing hard at his ass. Louis tries and fails to stifle a moan.

“Lou,” he grits out, quiet.

Louis whines. “Harry.”

He speaks right into Louis’ ear, barely audible, muffled, so the mics can’t pick it up. “Are you this hard for me?”

“Fuck you,” he whispers back, rolling his hips forward, answering without speaking.

Harry kisses him again, just as fervently as before, breathing heavily, hands spanning across the width of Louis’ back. Louis slides his pointer fingers into the waistband of Harry’s pants and Harry sucks in his stomach, giving Louis more access.

Louis pulls back, keeping his hands where they are, and murmurs into Harry’s ear as quietly as he possibly can, “You have no idea how badly I want to get you off.”

Harry drops his forehead to Louis’, momentarily squeezing his eyes shut. “Can’t say stuff like that when there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“What if there is?”

He shakes his head. “No. Just. Please don’t drive me any crazier than you already are. I’m seriously begging.”

He swallows. “No, you’re not begging. Not yet.”

“Lou.” His voice is strained. “We have to get back out there and I’m going to be the worst bachelor on the history of the show because I’m not going to be able to stop thinking about you.”

“Who’s gonna know what you’re thinking?”

“Believe me.” He kisses Louis again on the lips, this time chaste. “ _ Everyone _ will be able to know what I’m thinking.”

 

And he’s right.

The way he can’t stop staring at Louis is so blindingly transparent, Louis is bordering on uncomfortable. Fortunately, all of the other guys are all buzzed enough - or stupid enough - that no one says anything, or even notices.

They still have another half hour before they have to start getting ready for the actual rose ceremony portion of the evening, and seven guys are in the kitchen, playing a game of Forty Fives at the bar. Louis climbs onto one of the bar stools, resting on his elbows, observing.

“How’re we doing so far, boys?” he asks, trying to remain nonchalant, mostly doing a decent job of it, he thinks.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Daniel grumbles.

“He’s a sore fucking loser, that’s what,” Casey laughs.

Harry joins them, taking the empty stool next to Louis, resting on his elbows, as well. “Who’s winning?”

“So far, so good,” Jonathan says, shuffling through a deck of cards.

Louis looks over his shoulder and sees the cameras zoomed in on them, but realizes the bartop is blocking them from the waist down. No one can see them; not the crew, not the guys. He puts his hands in his lap, thinking.

Zayn’s words have been bouncing around in his head all night, specifically,  _ You don’t have to play by the rules. _ It’s all he can think about, and it’s the only encouragement he needs when he places his hand dangerously close on the inside of Harry’s thigh.

Harry looks down, then up at Louis’ face, biting down on his bottom lip.

Louis slowly shakes his head. “Don’t draw attention to yourself.”

“That’s a little hard, don’t you think?”

“I’ll say it is.”

“Oh my God, your jokes are seriously horrible.”

Louis smirks, sliding his hand up higher, cupping Harry through his pants. “And that’s coming from  _ you, _ so they really must be.”

Harry swallows. “Can’t really think of a comeback right now.”

“That’s fine.” He can feel Harry getting harder beneath his palm. “Just don’t focus on me.”

He laughs, sounding strangled. “Yeah, sure.”

Louis works over Harry slowly, not enough to really do anything, just to keep him on edge and wanting more, but the longer it goes on, the more  _ Louis _ is turned on, losing at his own wicked game. Harry’s lips are parted, eyed a little wide, and seriously, how the fuck have these guys not noticed anything? It starts to become too much and he has to stop, drawing his hand back, Harry groaning low in his throat.

“Hey, Lou, you want in?” Casey asks.

Both Louis’ and Harry’s heads snap up at the request. “Uh, yeah, sure,” he says. “I’ll play.”

Casey gives him a hand of cards. “Harry? You, too?”

Harry shakes his head. “That’s alright, I’m just watching.”

Louis doesn’t bother picking up his cards, can’t focus, really, and grabs Harry’s hand under the bartop. Harry doesn’t acknowledge it or look down; the way he’s concentrating on the card game is nearly laughable.  _ No one _ has ever cared this much about a card game in the history of the planet.

He opens Harry’s hand out flat on his lap and before he can chicken out, carefully starts tracing letters, making sure Harry understands what he’s doing.

_ M-E-E-T _

Harry frowns. “What are you talking about,” he mumbles.

He waits to make sure none of the guys are looking at them, that the camera isn’t focused directly on Louis, but he’s still nervous to chance it, doesn’t want the mics to pick up anything. Instead, he just looks up at Harry and gives him the same look he gave him from inside the interview room, hoping Harry will catch on.

He does.

“Jesus Christ.” Harry wraps his hand around Louis’ wrist. “Can’t.”

Louis draws a question mark onto Harry’s palm.

“It’s against the rules,” he replies, voice barely audible.

He slaps his free palm onto the bartop. “I don’t want to play by these bloody rules!” Based on the way the rest of the guys turn to look at him, he realizes he’s spoken much too loudly, and his cheeks instantly go bright red.

Before he can come up with anything to say, though, Frankie rolls his eyes. “Don’t be a sore loser like Dan over here.”

“Hey,” Dan protests.

“Unless you learned how to play it a different way. What’d they teach you back at home?”

Louis wants to slam his head into the bartop. “No, sorry, your rules are fine. I’m just being a twat.” The guys shrug and go back to their game, and he looks up at Harry, who has his eyes squeezed shut, cheeks sucked in, clearly trying his hardest not to burst out into laughter. “You can suck a dick, Styles.”

He smirks at that and grabs Louis’ hand under the table, flattening his own palm out. He writes out the number  _ 309. _

Louis nods, writing back  _ TIME. _

_ 4 AM. _

_ K. _

Harry grabs Louis’ wrist again, much firmer this time, and Louis is done talking.   
  


* * *

Louis sneaks out of the hotel room at about 3:55 in the morning, buzzing, not tired in the slightest. They’ve all only been in bed for about an hour, but based on the way everyone is dead silent, a couple of snores floating around the room, he figures it’s safe to head out, closing the door softly behind him.

He doesn’t bother putting on shoes - just socks - and the hotel’s carpet is soft beneath his feet. The hallway is empty, no one opening or closing any doors, the lighting dimmed, and as he’s approaching Harry’s door, he realizes it’s the first time in nearly a month that he’s been completely alone, sans showering. He has to close his eyes and take a minute for himself, leaning his head against the wall, breathing in and out.

He knocks on the door gently, tapping twice, and he steps back, looking down at the floor. Harry pulls the door open slowly, smiling when he sees Louis.

“Hi.”

“Hi, back.” Louis steps inside, Harry letting the door click shut behind them, and he looks around. “Why is it that they give you a room that’s bigger than mine, and I have to share mine with what feels like half of the population of Manhattan.”

Harry laughs. “What, you don’t like sharing a room with a bunch of dudes?”

“I don’t just share a room. I share a  _ bed, _ too.”

“Wait. You share a bed?”

Louis raises a brow. “Yes?”

“With who?”

“I dunno. Sometimes Cam. Sometimes Matt.”

“Why?!”

“Because there are limited beds, can you fucking relax, please? We’re not sucking each other’s dicks.”

Harry blushes. “I didn’t say that…”

“Yeah, but  _ clearly _ you’re thinking it.”

He takes a step forward and grips Louis’ hip with his left hand. “No, to be honest I’m not really thinking about that right now.”

Louis looks up through his lashes. “You wanna tell me what you  _ are _ thinking about, then?”

“That I think you should wear these glasses more often.”

He reaches up and touches the frames, forgetting he had them on. “Yeah? What else?”

“That you’re gorgeous when you’re dressed up, but somehow, you pull off sweatpants and a t-shirt even better.”

“Christ, what a line.”

“Not a line.” He swallows and steps closer, their toes touching. “‘m thinking that I want to kiss you.”

“Aren’t you always thinking that?” He tries to make it sound like a joke, but it falls flat, and Harry licks his lips.

“Whenever I’m with you, yeah. And usually when I’m not.”

Louis inhales sharply, reaching out to slide his hands up Harry’s biceps. “Is this the only reason you gave me a rose? To get me here?”

Harry leans forward, both hands grabbing for Louis’ hips, digging his fingers in. He smirks slightly before breathing out, “If I said yes, would that be okay,” the word just barely ghosting over Louis’ lips, and Louis nods, helpless to do anything else, before they connect.

It’s only been a few hours since they’ve last kissed, but it doesn’t matter. Harry kisses Louis like he’s missed him, like he’s needed him, and Louis falls into it with wandering hands. He’s already hard from so much buildup and anticipation, and the fact that this isn’t technically allowed is really getting to him. He grinds his hips into Harry’s, unable to stop himself, and Harry’s right there with him.

Harry starts walking them backward toward his bed, lips working mercilessly over Louis’, only separating when he he falls down onto the mattress, hands gripping uselessly at the duvet.

“Louis,” he murmurs out. “Is this stupid?”

Louis sucks in his cheeks, palming at himself when he sees Harry is looking, and the reaction is exactly what he wanted. “Probably. Do you want me to go?”

“If you think I could kick you out right now, you’re out of your fucking mind. Stop touching yourself, I want to.”

He immediately drops his hand. “I thought I said  _ I _ wanted to get  _ you _ off, not the other way around.”

“‘m gonna suck you off and you’re gonna have to deal with that.”

He whines, tipping his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Okay, yeah, okay, I can work with that.”

“Come here.”

Louis pulls his t-shirt over his head before he climbs over Harry, straddling him, and grinds down at the exact time their lips meet. Harry groans into it, hands dragging down Louis’ back, all the way down to his ass and gripping hard, pushing their hips together.

He can barely stand the fact that Harry is hard beneath him, back arching, eyes unable to stay open for more than a few seconds until they slip shut, mumbling out how good Louis feels, how hot he is.

Louis can’t answer, can’t think of anything, really, other than how badly he wants to get Harry off, how badly he wants to get himself off. He’s panting and he knows Harry can probably taste the sweat on him when he leans up to bite at his collarbones. It hurts, it hurts  _ good _ , and he grinds down particularly hard at the feeling, whimpering.

Harry grips Louis’ hips at that, stilling his movements. “Louis, you’re so fucking good at that,” he groans. “You have to stop.”

He tries to move but Harry’s fucking strong. “I don’t see your logic,” he grits out. “If it’s good, why are you making me stop.”

“Because you’re going to make me come in my pants like I’m fucking 15.”

Louis laughs, only sounding slightly hysterical. “Okay, then let go of me so I can…” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, Harry nearly bucking Louis off of him, covering him with his own body instead, balancing on his elbows.

He kisses him with way too much tongue to be considering a decent kiss, but Louis whines into it, grabbing at any inch of skin he can manage to find, pushing Harry’s shirt up to his armpits, bunching at his chest.

“Get it off,  _ off _ ,” he chants, looking up at Harry.

Harry nods, pulling it off in one, swift motion, before bending down to kiss and lick and bite at Louis’ torso. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he murmurs against Louis’ skin. “Taste so good.”

“ _ Harry _ ,” he pleads.

“Okay, baby, okay.” He sits up on his knees, sitting astride Louis’ thighs, and starts to yank at Louis’ sweatpants. “Want to get my mouth on you.”

Louis lifts his hips. “Then fucking  _ do _ it.”

Harry nods, biting at his bottom lip, making room for Louis to kick off his pants, leaving him in just boxers. He’s tenting obscenely, but can’t be half-assed to care, not when Harry starts palming himself, too worked up just by  _ looking _ at Louis.

When he leans down to mouth at Louis through his boxers, Louis just about loses it. He’s never been this turned on, never wanted to get off so badly, and they haven’t even gotten started yet. Just the hotness of Harry’s mouth against his cock alone, even with a layer of fabric between them, is enough to make him slap his fists against the mattress, too overwhelmed.

Harry works over Louis, getting his boxers wet, outline of his cock completely visible, and Louis doesn’t even know he’s talking when Harry says, “Shh, Lou, I’ve got you, okay?”

He has to throw his arm over his eyes when Harry yanks his boxers off all the way. “Jesus Christ,” he spits out, hips thrusting up into nothing.

“Fuck, you’re telling me,” Harry murmurs against his bare thigh. “Can’t even stand how gorgeous you are. Seriously. So fucking sexy.” He bends down and sucks at the head, Louis’ eyes still covered, utterly unprepared for how good it feels.

Harry takes him down further, eventually sliding all the way down, Louis’ cock hitting the back of his throat, and his eyes go wide at that, abs clenching when he sits up to look, immediately regretting it, the visual too much.

He’s looking up at Louis, lips and tongue like heaven, drowning him in heat and pressure, and Louis can’t help it when he bucks his hips up, whining and moaning out words that he’s sure aren’t a part of the English language. All he can do is lie there and take it, gripping at Harry’s curls, letting every wave crash and course through his body, quick and sharp, like electricity.

Harry pulls up, thumbing at the head, and Louis moans, his eyes squeezing shut, pushing his hips forward.

“You sound so good, Lou,” Harry mumbles, biting at his thigh. “Bet you sound even better when you come. You gonna let me hear that?”

“Yes, Harry, ‘m gonna,” he spits out, chest heaving.

Harry squeezes Louis’ cock in his palm before taking him down again, working over him more fervently, tongue relentless, and it starts to happen all at once, not gradually like when he gets himself off. His legs start twitching, his stomach clenching, his breathing is out of control, entire body tensing and clenching, and he can barely get a warning out before he starts coming deep in Harry’s throat, overworked and overheated, voice high pitched and too breathy but he can’t find it in him to care.

He lays there, panting, as Harry pulls off, kissing his way up his stomach, his chest, his neck. “This was a terrible idea.”

Louis can’t muster up the energy to open his eyes. Not yet. “Why,” he breathes out.

“Because there’s no way I’m going to be able to get the way you sound and feel out of my mind for a long fucking time.”

“Needed to,” he says. “It’s all I could think about for weeks.”

“Yeah?” Harry kisses his jaw, hands curling into his hair, and Louis can feel his cock hard against his thigh.

“Yeah.”

“Me, too.”

Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s neck and nuzzles his face in, mouthing at his shoulder. “Get your dick out.”

Harry snorts. “Charming,” but he’s already taking sitting up to pull his sweatpants down, cock fully hard and bobbing up against his stomach. He drops back down to the mattress, pushing his hips forward into Louis’ thigh, gaze glued to Louis’ face.

Louis doesn’t look down as he reaches down to take Harry in his fist, squeezing him the way he likes it, firm and slow. Based on the way Harry’s jaw goes slack and his hand tightens its grip on Louis’ ass, it seems like he prefers it that way, too.

He works over him slowly, kissing his neck and jaw every so often, never picking up the speed, just keeping his movements steady and solid. Harry rocks his hips into it, groaning every so often, and Louis uses the precome to help with the glide, Harry jerking forward even more.

He only jerks him faster once Harry’s breathing starts to pick up, hot against Louis’ face. “Baby. I’m.”

Louis nods. “Come on, Harry.”

He goes completely silent, shoving his hips forward into Louis’ fist and his face into Louis’ shoulder, and comes, body tensing up before he goes slack completely, dropping flat on his back onto the mattress.

Louis sidles up next to him after he’s given him a moment, and Harry noses up Louis’ jaw. “What are you thinking?” he whispers against his skin, goosebumps raising.

He’s thinking a lot of things, honestly, but none of them he’s ready to say just yet. He settles on something safe. “That I’m starving.”

He laughs, still breathless. “Okay, then. I’ll feed you.”

 

They eat horrible pepperoni pizza courtesy of room service at 5:30 in the morning, and just as the sun is rising, Harry says, “You know what my favorite thing about you is?”

“Do you want me to actually guess, because it might take a while.”

He smirks. “No, I’ll tell you.” He takes a sip of his water. “That you’re exactly the same on camera as you are off of it. I’ve already noticed some of the guys have multiple personalities. And that’s not necessarily something they’re aware of. Sometimes the camera makes you do weird things. It’s just nice that I don’t have to worry about that with you.”

“So, what you’re saying is that my personality both on and off camera is dazzling and intoxicating?”

Harry smiles before leaning over to kiss him softly on his lips, fleeting and gentle. “Yes, that is actually exactly what I’m saying.” He stares at Louis intently, frowning. “You know  _ this _ ,” he says, gesturing around, “isn’t the only reason I gave you a rose, right?”

Louis snorts. “Yes, Styles, I know.”

He kisses him again. “Thank God.”

 

Louis slides into his bed just before everyone else starts getting out of theirs, and he’s bone tired, but the cheesy smile plastered to his face says otherwise.   
  


* * *

Over the next few weeks, the group moves across the country, stopping in Bar Harbor, Maine, before they head to Iceland, and though Louis doesn’t get another date during that timespan, he’s okay with it. Harry will often leave notes for Louis - stupid, silly things, like what he had for breakfast, or the song that’s stuck in his head, or that he had a strange dream the night before that he worked on a blueberry farm and Louis was the Amish boy down the dirt road, selling cheese - and he keeps them in his wallet for when he’s all up in his own head and can’t stop missing Harry.

And then there’s the first rose ceremony after the hotel rendezvous. Harry pulls Louis aside and kisses him, sweetly and slowly, a nice contrast to the last several times they’d been left alone together, and murmurs against his lips, “Missed your mouth so much.”

Louis squirms. “You are a dentist, after all.”

He smiles. “Missed your mind.”

“It  _ is _ a good one.”

Harry nods. “Missed  _ you _ .”

He has trouble swallowing under Harry’s stare. “Fuck, I missed you, too.”

And Louis understands that he can’t expect Harry to drop everything and everyone for him; that’s not the point of the show, or the process.

Doesn’t mean he can’t pout about it, though.

The number of men is dwindling, but Louis is still here, safe week after week, and the pang in his chest subsides every time Harry calls his name to accept a rose. It’s okay for now. It’s all okay.

 

As they pack up to leave Iceland, Louis overhears Casey talking to Chris from the room over, discussing the weather in London for when they touch down, and he just about has a heart attack in the hotel. He hasn’t had a date in two weeks, he hasn’t even  _ seen _ Harry in three days, but he’s going home and he can’t stop smiling.

He’s downright  _ giddy _ when they land at Heathrow, so much that Jonathan jokingly smothers him with a pillow to get him to shut up just before they hit the pavement, although based on the force behind it, Louis isn’t sure if he was actually just playing around.

Christ, it’s been over a  _ year _ since he’s been back in London, and he’s so beyond happy to be home, he has to actively force himself not to bend down and kiss the tarmac. The beautiful, disgusting tarmac.

It’s cool, about 54 degrees, and rainy, as usual. There’s a fog that makes it impossible to see just about anything, including oncoming traffic, and the amount of times their driver curses is comical.

Ah, London. Perfect, gorgeous London.

Once they’re all settled in the hotel, Louis takes a seat next to Cam on the couch in the common area, squishing into the pillows, warming his hands with a cup of tea.

“So, Cameron. Welcome to me country.”

Cam laughs. “Do you think you’re gonna be able to see your family at all?”

“I don’t know. Obviously, I would love to. But we’re only going to be in London for about 48 hours before we move onto somewhere new, apparently, and I’m not sure I’ll have time to squeeze them in. Especially if I’m the one who gets the one-on-one date today.”

“It’s a pretty good chance you will. You haven’t had a one-on-one since the first week, and of course he’d want to give it to you in the place you grew up.”

“Yeah.” Louis scratches at the fabric on the pillow next to him. “Maybe.”

 

_ Maybe _ turns into  _ definitely _ when Jonathan walks in with the date card an hour later.

“Louis,” he reads, “let’s explore. Love, H.”

Louis snorts. “Wow, what a specific card.” He turns to Lydia. “Were those words your brilliant idea? Because if so, bravo, well done.”

“Seriously, Lou, we’ve talked about this,” she scolds. “Now we have to retake that, unless you want to come off looking like a miserable son of bitch any time the camera is on you. Try to be excited and not a sarcastic brat for once.”

“It’s my natural, radiant personality, what can I say.”

“Ugh.” She rolls her eyes and turns to Jonathan. “Will you read the card again?”

“Louis, you make everything impossible,” Jonathan says, flipping him off. He reads the card one more time, his voice much less enthusiastic than before, and makes a face that says,  _ If you make me do this again, I’ll light you on fire. _

Louis doesn’t give it more than two seconds of thought before he jumps to his feet and claps, screaming, “Oh, good golly, a date for me! I’m the chosen one! This moment is epic! Live, laugh, love, everyone!”

Cam snorts so hard, tea comes out of his nose and Jonathan throws the envelope at him, as if it would cause any actual damage.

Lydia throws her hands in the air. “I give up. You’re a lunatic, and I don’t care how you look on national television anymore.”

He blows her a kiss. “See you on my date tomorrow.”   
  


* * *

Louis’ instructed to wear comfortable clothing, including shoes that won’t give him blisters, and he pouts.

“Am I gonna be doing excessive walking? Do I really have to be a tourist in my own city?”

“Are you ever grateful for anything, ever?” Lydia asks, exasperated.

“Yes, I’m grateful when I’m in bed, asleep.” He pauses. “And also, when I’m with Harry, if we’re being honest. Where is that boy of mine, anyway? Isn’t it almost time for us to get going?”

“Jesus Christ, the  _ one _ time you’re sweet and the cameras aren’t rolling! What are the chances I can get you to say that again?”

He pretends to think about it. “Hmm, it would probably have to be a life or death situation, I’m thinking.” He leans forward and kisses her on the cheek. “Love you.”

“You suck. But also, you look lovely. Your hair is nice like that.”

He touches his quiff. “Aw, this ol’ thing? Thanks, love.”

“And to answer your question, Harry should be here in about ten.”

“Okay, good, so I have time to ring me mum before I have to go.”

“Yup, if you make it quick.”

“Sure, tell  _ her _ that.”

He makes his way over to the hotel’s phone and dials the first number he ever had memorized. It picks up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

His throat constricts, just a little bit. “Hi, Daisy.”

“Louis?!”

“How are you?”

“I’m good! Where are you now?!”

He purses his lips together. He does  _ not _ want to tell her he’s about two hours from their house, and most likely won’t be able to make it there. He’ll cry if he has to say that out loud, especially to his 16 year old sister. “Let me talk to mum. I only have a few minutes.”

“Hold on.”

He listens as Daisy screams for Jay, followed by a bunch of rustling over the phone. Then: “Hi, baby.”

Jesus, her voice is so comforting, and it’s only been about two months since the last time he’s talked to her but it still feels like a punch to the stomach. “Hi, Mum.”

“Where are you calling me from?”

He wraps the phone’s cord around his left pointer finger and takes a deep breath. “I’m in London.”

“Is this you calling to tell me you don’t have time for a visit?”

He whines. “I  _ wish _ I wasn’t making this call.”

“It’s okay, baby. The girls don’t know yet, so no major letdown for them.”

“What about for me?! I miss everyone so much.”

“Would it help if I said I’d been sorting out a trip to visit you in Chicago for when you get back home? Me, Lottie, Fizzy, Phoebe, and Daisy?”

He holds the phone closer to his ear. “Are you serious? You’ve never visited me there before.”

“Flights aren’t too expensive now and the girls will be on break. I want to see where my biggest baby lives.”

“Jesus.” He rubs his hand across his face. “That makes me feel a little better, yeah.”

“I’m glad. Just happy to know you’re on the same continent as me right now.”

“So close, yet so far away.”

“Oh, none of that. You’re doing something  _ amazing _ right now. Exciting, isn’t it?”

He smiles. “It is. I have a date with Harry today. I dunno where we’re going but. Yeah. I don’t really care as long as I get to hog him to meself for a bit.”

“Aw, love, do you actually really like him?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

She laughs and it makes him smile again. “I’m sure it’s mutual, if he’s not totally dense.”

“I think it might be. Mutual, that is.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

They talk for another minute or two, Jay chatting easily about his siblings and Louis happy to listen, when Bryce pokes his head in from around the corner.

“Lou, Harry’s here. Want me to tell him to wait a minute?”

Something has to be wrong with his tear ducts, because his eyes start to fill up and spill over again. “Yes, please,” he mouths.

Bryce nods and steps back out, giving Louis privacy to finish his conversation alone.

His head is in his hands, eyes closed, still listening to his mum talk through the phone, when he feels gentle, familiar hands on his back. He looks up.

“Hi, sorry, my mum…” He whispers, trailing off. “Just wanted to tell her I was here, but can’t see her.”

Harry nods and digs his thumb precisely into the knot in Louis’ back. He immediately lets his head drop to his chest, muscles going slack. That knot has been driving him  _ crazy _ for days.

Jay talks for a little while longer, Louis content to just listen and let Harry rub his back. He  _ mhm _ ’s and  _ uh-huh _ ’s every once in a while to show he’s listening, but he really can’t concentrate much, the feeling of homesickness suddenly so overpowering. He just wants to crawl through the phone, sleep in his tiny twin sized bed in his childhood bedroom. He curls into Harry a bit closer; he’s the next best thing to home, which is miraculous, seeing as they’ve only known each other for nine weeks. Harry’s hands grow more insistent and Louis nearly turns to putty.

“Baby, is Harry there yet?”

He clears his throat. “Uh, yeah, he’s been here. Just wanted to talk to you for a little bit before we headed out.”

“Aw, honey, don’t let me keep you. You two go out and have a good time.”

“Okay. I’ll try to call you again tomorrow before we head out.”

“I’m looking forward to it. Oh, wait, Lou?”

“Mum.”

“Can I talk to Harry?”

He doesn’t argue or ask why. He just hands the phone over to Harry. “She wants to talk to you.”

Harry grabs it without hesitation. “Hello, Mrs. Deakin.” Louis strains to hear her through the receiver, but Harry pushes his face out of the way. “Yes, we have a busy day planned. I promise, I’ll take care of him.” He pauses, and Louis nudges in closer, his head basically stuck under Harry’s armpit. Harry leaves him there.

They continue to chat, Harry laughing every so often, answering what seems like some fairly basic and simple questions, and then: “Yeah, I’m crazy about him,” he says, answering a question that Louis didn’t hear. The honesty in Harry’s voice makes Louis tear up. Again. He wipes at his eyes, pissed that he’s been crying for the better part of the last 15 minutes.

He tunes out, letting Harry and his mum wrap up their conversation, and eventually, Harry hands the phone back to Louis.

“Mum?”

“He’s as lovely as ever. Go enjoy your date. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Okay.” He slides down on the couch and puts his head on Harry’s lap. Harry cards his fingers through his hair on instinct. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. Call me whenever you can.”

“I will.”

“I love you.”

“Love you back.” He hangs up, feeling a bit lighter, a bit happier, a bit relieved. He twists his body and looks up at Harry. “She wasn’t mad that I can’t see them.”

“Did you really expect her to be?”

“No. I dunno. Mad probably isn’t the right word. More like disappointed. It’s been over a year, H.”

“I know. I can’t even imagine.” He rubs his hand up and down Louis’ thigh. “I feel bad that we have a date. I should have picked someone else so you could go see them.”

Louis makes a face and pinches Harry’s stomach. “I would have murdered you in your sleep. This is  _ my _ town. I  _ dare _ you to keep me out of it.”

Harry laughs. “Okay, good. Let’s go see it, then.”

“Yes. Let’s.”

 

They walk hand-in-hand down the wet streets of London, Harry excited to experience London for the first time, Louis excited to watch him. He keeps pointing out things Louis has seen hundreds of times, but it’s fun to see something through someone else’s eyes for the first time all over again, so he indulges in Harry’s behavior and lets him go nuts over every single building and double decker bus.

By late afternoon, Louis assumes that sightseeing is their entire date, and honestly, he isn’t too let down about it. It feels good to be back in his comfort zone, and he likes being able to lead for once. Usually, it’s Harry who directs him, pushes him in the right direction. This time, he’s in charge.

Just the way he likes it.

The sun is setting when Harry leads them down to the entrance of the London aquarium. He smiles and says, “Okay, here’s our last stop in touristville.”

“The aquarium?”

“Yes. Have you been here before?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Not since a field trip when I was, like, eight, probably.”

“Okay, good. Well. I can guarantee you that you haven’t seen it like this before.”

“And how do you reckon that one?”

“You’ll see.”

They go through the aquarium’s main entrance together, camera crew walking backward in front of them, filming their reactions, and once they’re past the main lobby, Louis doesn’t have words to describe what he’s looking at.

The entire building is empty.

There are fish, yes, as well as sharks and otters and even a small penguin exhibit. But there aren’t any  _ people _ . Never in Louis’ wildest dreams did he ever imagine he could enter one of the area’s biggest tourist attractions and have it all to himself. It’s overwhelming, honestly, to look around without interruption, no distractions, just him and Harry, hands linked together,  _ just them. _

He turns to Harry. “Is this gonna be a thing? Dates that don’t involve other people?”

Harry laughs. “You don’t like even  _ like _ other people, for the most part.”

“No, I don’t. I’m not complaining, I’m just clarifying.” He squeezes Harry’s hand. “I like you, though.”

“Thank God.” He drags Louis’ hand up to his mouth and kisses the back of it. “You ready?”

“Yeah. I wanna see the turtles.”

“Awesome, let’s find you some turtles.”

 

This trip to the aquarium is abundantly better than Louis’ last trip. There aren’t any crowds of children screaming to touch the starfish in the touch pool, no one is crowding up against the glass to get a picture of the school of clownfish swimming by, and there isn’t a single American jackass, asking why the fish aren’t swimming on the other side of the tank, seeing as they’re in Europe, and all.

Well. There’s one American jackass asking, but Louis has learned to tune him out.

He stops in front of the tank of jellyfish, mesmerized by their movements. They’re all so steady and graceful; they almost don’t seem real. He gently traces his finger along the glass.

“Harry,  _ look _ at them.”

“I am. I know.”

“Do you, though? They’re unbelievable.”

“Incredible to imagine something so small and gorgeous has that much sting in it.” He smirks. “Kinda like you.”

“Okay, unnecessary.”

They keep moving down the wall, stopping at the tank of poisonous tree frogs, visiting the sea urchins next, and saying hello to the seahorses after that. Louis is fixated on the way they’re swimming back and forth when Harry taps him on the hip.

“I have a surprise. Come with me.”

“A surprise party? For me?”

He smiles. “Not quite.”

Louis follows him down the steps, down a corridor, down  _ another _ corridor, and Harry stops before a set of double doors.

“And behind door number two…”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Okay, if you’ll be quiet for the next 20 seconds, I’ll tell you what’s behind me.”

“Counting and being quiet. Things I excel at.”

He ignores his sarcasm. “The aquarium has been building this exhibit for the past three years. It isn’t open to the public yet, but today, they’re opening it for us.”

Louis whistles. “What kind of strings did you have to pull to get us in here, Styles?”

“You have no idea.” He pushes open the doors and stands to the side, letting Louis enter first.

“Harry. What the fuck.”

He’s seen things like this online before, in magazines, in movies. Never in real life, though, and for the second time since he stepped foot in the Sea Life London Aquarium, he’s speechless.

It’s a tunnel made entirely of glass, shaped like a dome at the ceiling, glass wrapping around the entire room, essentially placing them inside of a lifesize bubble. It’s like they’re standing inside an actual ocean, nothing to cloud or obstruct their view. To their right, a school of mandarinfish swim in circles, their colors beaming and glowing. To their right, a squid - a fucking  _ squid _ \- scoots by. And above their heads, Louis stares as a hammerhead shark sways back and forth, fish frantically trying to avoid him at all costs.

“We’re. We’re, like,  _ in _ the exhibit.”

“Cool, right?”

“No. ‘Cool’ is not the right word for this. This is… Harry. We are literally surrounded by an ocean.”

“Which ocean?”

“I don’t know. The best one.”

Harry laughs. “I’ll leave your review with the guys at the front desk.”

“How much water is  _ in _ this tank?” He stares up at the ceiling again, trying to determine how far up it goes. “Oh my God, what if the glass breaks. We’re dead.”

“The glass won’t break, you lunatic. It’s, like, two feet thick. Like your skull, apparently.”

He ignores him. “Harry, there’s probably 100 billion gallons of water in there.”

“Is that an estimate or an approximation?”

He continues to ignore him. “I can’t believe how unreal this is. Honestly. It’s like a dream or something.” He looks down for the first time since entering, and then something catches his eye. “Wait, what’s that? On the ground?”

“Oh.” Harry walks over to the item on the ground. “Bean bag chairs.”

“Bean bag chairs.”

“Yeah, I figured it would be nice if we could sit down on the ground and look up, but a blanket and pillow seem too porn-ish.”

Louis turns around and stares at the camera crew. “I can’t be sarcastic but Harry can talk about porn?”

Lydia makes a face. “We won’t be keeping that.”

“Oh, I liked it,” Louis says. “He’s funny sometimes.”

“Aw, thanks, baby.” He sits down on one of the bean bags and pats the one next to him. “Come here.”

Louis smirks and joins Harry on the floor, squishing himself into the chair, letting it mold against his body. It only takes a minute or two before he decides that position won’t do, and he places his head on Harry’s chest. Harry twists Louis’ hair around his fingers, scratching at his scalp, and he thinks he could fall asleep right here, laying at the bottom of the ocean, listening to the even tick of Harry’s heartbeat.

He actually  _ does _ start to doze off; the room is nearly glowing, illuminated by neon blue lights, shining, almost like a black light, and it’s so soothing, he can’t help it. Combine that with the warmth of Harry’s arms around him and the water lapping at the glass over and over and over…

“Don’t fall asleep,” Harry whispers into his ear.

“Not gonna,” he mumbles back.

“You’re basically already comatose.”

“Can’t help it.”

“I have one more thing to show you. You have to be awake for it.”

“I now have very high expectations for our next date, so you know. This is so outrageously good that it’s actually bordering on too much.”

“Hasn’t crossed that line yet, though, right?”

“Not yet.”

“Perfect.”

Louis forces his eyes open and stares at the fish swimming overhead. “I have a question.”

“I might have an answer.”

“How much say do you have in these dates?”

“Some of them are planned out from start to finish without any input from me at all. Some I tweak a bit. Only a couple I’ve created entirely on my own.”

“Such as…”

“This one.”

Louis smiles into Harry’s chest. “Thanks for a fun date, love.”

Harry kisses the top of his head. “Of course. But. I told you. We’re not done. You ready to get up?”

“Can’t believe this was just a pit stop…”

“You’re gonna love what’s next. I promise.”

“Okay. Wow me.”

Harry stands up and grabs Louis’ hands, pulling him up to his feet. “That’s my goal.”

They walk side by side down a hallway together, weaving in and out of aisles of fish and informational posters, Harry halting to a stop just before they turn the corner.

“What’s the hold up, Styles?”

“I have to cover your eyes with my hands.”

“Is that really necessary.”

“No, but I want to.”

Louis sighs. “If you must.”

“I must.” He stands behind Louis and wraps his arms around him, hands shielding his eyes, and everything goes dark. “Can you see?”

“No, my x-ray vision must be on the fritz today, damnit.”

“I hate you. Now walk.”

Louis obeys, walking forward slowly, letting Harry maneuver him. “Are we there yet?”

“No.”

“How about now?”

“Louis.”

“Now?”

Harry huffs out a laugh. “You’re so much work. Okay.” He drops his hands. “Open.”

Louis blinks, forcing his eyes to readjust in the dim lighting from the fish tanks, and before him is a long table, filled with food and drinks and flowers alike.

But that isn’t what he’s staring at.

He just. Immediately starts crying, can’t even control it. He grips Harry’s hands, steadying himself, and chokes out, “What are you doing here?!”

His mum and oldest sisters are all sitting behind the table, tears in their own eyes, and it’s Jay who gets up first. He nearly runs to her, practically knocking her over once he’s in her arms, and she holds onto him, petting his back.

“Are you happy we’re here?” she asks.

He nods, unable to say anything else, and hugs her tighter. He feels Lottie and Fizzy’s arms wrap around him, too, and it makes him tear up all over again.

He eventually forces himself to step back and pull himself together, wiping at his eyes and sniffling. “Jesus, I’m embarrassed,” he murmurs, making his mum and sisters laugh. “Thanks for making me feel like total shit on the phone this morning, by the way.”

Jay scoffs. “Well, what was I supposed to do? Ruin the entire surprise?”

“Was it your idea?”

She shakes her head and points to Harry over his shoulder. “I got a call from that guy about two months ago.”

Louis swallows and turns, facing Harry. “You?”

Harry smiles. “Me.”

He looks down at his feet and then back up again, collecting his thoughts. “Explain, please.”

“Remember during our first date when I said I wanted to call your mom?”

“Yes.”

“And then we didn’t call her.”

“Right.”

“Well. I called her without you.”

“Okay…”

“About a week after our date, I called her up, yeah.”

“But why?”

“I knew we would be making a stop in London and knew the schedule would be tight and I wanted to give you the opportunity to see her. I could tell how much you missed her, even then. So, I had to make sure she didn’t have any plans for this weekend, and told her to make the trip. I extended the invitation to the rest of the family, as well, obviously. Looks like these two were the only ones brave enough to show up.”

Lottie and Fizzy smirk and Louis can’t believe they’re standing in front of him right now, after almost 15 months since the last time he saw them in person. It’s been  _ so _ long. “How’d you know I’d even still be here now? That you wouldn’t have sent me home? Or that I wouldn’t have asked to leave?”

“Ah, I knew you weren’t going anywhere.”

“You were that sure I was a sure thing?”

“Yes.” He doesn’t even hesitate when he replies, just stares at Louis intently, his green eyes nearly burning.

There aren’t any words that Louis can come up with that won’t lessen what he’s thinking right now, so instead of attempting it, he just kisses him. It’s way too intimate considering his mum and sisters are watching, but he doesn’t care. He gives it everything he has, slipping his tongue into Harry’s mouth, gripping his waist like a lifeline, pressing the entire length of his body up against Harry’s. He can’t get his thoughts about, but  _ this _ he can do.

Harry kisses back just as fervently, every swipe of his tongue determined, his hands moving across Louis’ back and clutching his elbows, tiny whines escaping whenever Louis nips at his bottom lip. He’s the first one to pull back, breathless, and he rests his forehead against Louis’, slightly panting against his face.

“Little too much for your poor mom to have to watch,” he murmurs.

“I don’t care.”

“Yeah, well, I do. Good first impressions, and all that.”

“And all that,” he agrees. He kisses Harry again, softly, lips barely meeting. When he leans back, he whispers, “Thank you.”

Harry smiles. “You’re welcome.”

He takes a deep breath. “Alright, well, it’s time for you to proper meet my family, yeah?”

He nods. “Yes. Let’s do it.”

 

Over the next two hours, Louis, Harry, Jay, Lottie, and Fizzy enjoy a delicious meal - one they’re actually allowed to eat - amongst the sea creatures. Harry asks all the right questions, charming his sisters, making his mum fall in love, and Louis can’t help but put his hand on Harry’s thigh, squeezing, grateful for something he’s not even sure if he has yet.

He doesn’t let himself think about that, though, doesn’t let him think that Harry  _ isn’t _ actually his boyfriend and instead, he enjoys this moment, content to pretend that this  _ is _ his new boyfriend meeting his family for the first time and Jesus, it’s  _ so _ easy to pretend, so easy to fall for it.

As dessert is being served, Harry leans across the table and picks up the single red rose resting on its silvery tray, which Louis hadn’t even noticed until right now. He hands it to Louis.

“I’m not even gonna ask if you’ll accept this rose,” he says. “Just. Take it. Please.”

Louis laughs. “Romantic. Yes, I’ll take it.” He twists the stem around between his thumb and pointer finger, avoiding the thorns, and settles back in his chair to listen as Harry tells his mum and sisters about the look on Louis’ face when they reached the top of the bridge in San Francisco. Normally, he would slap him on the chest or bite his arm or do  _ something _ Louis like for bringing up his least favorite moment in 28 years of living. Tonight, though, he moves his chair closer to Harry’s and tangles their hands together in his lap, tired, full, and happy.

 

Before they leave the aquarium, Louis wraps his mum up in an embrace, smelling her familiar perfume, not wanting to let go. He suddenly feels 18 again, getting dropped off at the airport to move across the world for college. If anything, it’s harder to let go  _ now. _

Jay kisses him on the cheek. “I’m so glad I got to spend some time with you, love.”

He nods. “Me, too.”

“And I’m  _ thrilled _ we got to meet Harry.”

“Yeah, he’s a good lad.”

“He’s lovely, Lou. Very genuine. I like that.”

“I agree.”

“He seems to be very taken with you.”

Louis sucks in his cheeks. “You’re biased. You’re my mum.”

“ _ No, _ I’m being honest. Lou, he planned this entire thing on his own. The producers didn’t even know until earlier this week.”

He swallows. “Really?”

She nods. “Yes. Really.”

Well. That’s something. He looks over at Harry, who’s laughing easily with his sisters. “Jesus, I like him.”

“Does he know that?”

“I think so. I’ve told him as much.”

“Good. Don’t screw it up.”

He laughs. “Gee, thanks. Much faith.”

“Just want you to stay this happy. It’s.” She pauses. “It makes me happy, to see this.”

He doesn’t really have a follow up, so he pulls her in for another hug, instead, staring at Harry over her shoulder. When they make eye contact, Harry winks, and Louis has to turn away so he doesn’t combust on the spot.

And when he thinks back to this moment later that night, later that week, and later that month after his head is a little less cloudy, he knows this is the exact moment he fell in love with Harry Styles, blaringly obvious, radiating from every inch of him.

“I’ll see you in Chicago, love,” Jay murmurs.

He nods, forcing himself to stop looking at Harry from across the room. “Yeah, Mum, I’ll see you there.”

 

They pull him into the interview room after his date. His shirt smells like a mixture of both Harry and his mum and he can’t stop smelling it.

He shifts around on the chair, looking over the camera’s lens like he’s been instructed to. “Today was… Exceptional.” He looks down at his hands, his face breaking out into a smile. “I can’t believe I got to see my family. I already miss them. And Harry…” He knows his face is giving him away completely. “He’s, just, something else entirely, yeah? Christ. The  _ aquarium _ is brilliant, honestly. Full of life and beauty and I can’t believe I get to know it.” He flicks his hair out of his eyes. “I’m crazy about the aquarium. In fact, I think I might be in love with it.”


	3. The Journey Part II

Jonathan gets sent home at the end of their mini Europe excursion, and the hotel room is eerily empty with just the four of them left. Now that it’s just Louis, Casey, Cam, and Bryce, it hits Louis how real this entire this is becoming, and that Harry could possibly have connections with these other men. And how could he not? They’ve spent the past two and a half months together, nonstop. Forming bonds in inevitable.

Thinking about that makes Louis have to put his head between his legs.

Oh, God, the nausea.

They pack up to leave Europe, heading back to the States, and this time, they’re all flying separately. It’s hometown date time; everyone is going home to see their families, and Harry will spend a day with each of them. The logistics of it are ridiculous, Louis thinks. Harry will have to fly to Chicago to see him, then to Seattle for Casey, Austin for Bryce, and Hartford for Cameron. All within the span of five days. Who the hell planned that thinking it would be a good idea?

The flight from Heathrow to Midway goes by quicker than Louis had anticipated, considering he’s nearly bouncing out of his seat, excited to get into his apartment and be amongst his things, his TV, his bed, his cat, who is hopefully still alive, courtesy of Uncle Zayn.

The Chicago air smells incredible - something he’s never noticed before, and potentially just made up in his own head right now because of how much he’s missed it - and the four flights up to his apartment doesn’t suck as much as it usually does, even with his ridiculously heavy luggage trailing behind him.

He kicks open his door and drops his bags immediately, Finn already at his feet, meowing and rubbing up against his legs. Louis squats, scratching behind his ears before lifting him off the ground.

“Hi, baby,” he croons into his fur. “Missed you.”

Finn meows again, purring deeply, lifting his head up for Louis to scratch under his chin.

Louis heads into his bedroom, placing Finn down on the edge of bed, and sighs with how good it feels to be home. Traveling and experiencing the world and being with Harry over the past few months has been unbelievably rewarding, and the idea of being able to share his  _ own _ corner of the world with that boy tomorrow is enough to get his heart racing. But right now, in this moment, all he can think about is showering in his own bathroom for the first time in months, sliding underneath his familiar blankets, and sleeping until he can’t anymore.

And that’s exactly what he does.   
  


* * *

Louis is sitting unbelievably impatiently on a bench at the Chicago Riverwalk the next morning, tapping his feet on the ground, arms crossed. Harry should be here any minute, and he can’t wait to show off Chicago, can’t wait to show off Harry.

As touristy as it is, this is one of Louis’ favorite spots in the city, and he wants to share it with Harry, wants to share it with  _ everyone, _ really. There are always people down here, locals and out-of-towners alike, and it’s not hard to understand why. The river, which flows into Lake Michigan if you walk far enough down it, is slow moving and peaceful with the occasional kayaker or boat, and the juxtaposition of the river being framed by Chicago’s skyscrapers is never lost on Louis. He has a million and one pictures of this very view on his phone already, but that doesn’t stop him from taking another one now.

Eventually, he sees Harry out of the corner of his eye heading down the cement stairs, taking two at a time, and Louis jumps to his feet, shielding his eyes from the bright May sunshine.

“Hey, stranger!” he calls out.

Harry grins when he hears Louis’ voice, breaking into a jog. “Hey, you!”

Louis’ fingers are itching to touch him, and it’s only been about 48 hours since they parted ways in Europe, but God, he  _ missed _ him.

He all but jumps into Harry’s arms, letting Harry hold him way too tightly, and he pulls back slightly, not hesitating before connecting their mouths. He threads his fingers into Harry’s hair, getting caught in some of the tighter curls, and Harry bends down to get better access.

They both have to stop because they’re smiling too hard, and Harry drags his thumb across Louis’ bottom lip. “I’m so happy.”

Louis nods, his chest tightening at that. “Jesus, you’re here. In my city. Just us.” He glances to his right. “And the camera crew, but it’s all good. Hi guys,” he says, waving obnoxiously in front of the camera’s lens.

Lydia pretends to hit him with her clipboard. “Yeah, hello to you, too.”

Harry smiles and squeezes Louis’ biceps. “I’m so excited. What’re we doing today?”

“Love that you’re asking me instead of vise versa for once.”

Harry laughs. “I know, huh? You’re not usually one who prefers to be in charge…”

“Oh, ha ha.” He rubs his hands together. “Plan to make a proper tourist out of you. It’s going to be absolutely wicked.”

“And what does that entail?”

“To start, we’re going to take an architectural tour along the Chicago River.” He gestures toward the water. “You sit for an hour and a half and stare at buildings and learn about their history. Nice, innit?”

Harry cocks his brow. “Didn’t think that’s something that would be up your alley.”

“They serve free booze.”

“Ah. Got it. Okedoke, let’s go.” Harry grabs his hand and links their fingers together. “I’m, like, stupidly excited to be here, Lou.”

Louis squeezes Harry’s fingers. “I think you already mentioned that.”

“I may have.”

“Well, that makes two of us.”

They walk down alongside the river, Harry staring up at the buildings as they go, eagerly pointing out the infamous Trump Tower in the distance, nearly skipping along the sidewalk. Louis can’t stop smiling; he unlaces his fingers from Harry’s and instead, grabs Harry’s arm and drapes it over his shoulder. Harry pulls him in close, dragging his fingers up and down Louis’ bare arm.

They purchase tickets and climb aboard the boat, tour guide greeting them on the open deck. “You gentlemen ready for 90 educational and exciting minutes?”

Harry puts his hand over Louis’ mouth, stopping him from saying the words he somehow knew were threatening to fall out. “Yes, we’re ready.”

Louis bites his palm and Harry pinches his nipple.

“ _ Lydia, _ ” he whines, “Harry hurt me.”

“Did you just…  _ Tell _ on me?”

She rolls her eyes and scoffs. “Match made in heaven.”

Harry pinches him again. “You’re telling me.”

They take a seat in the front row, Harry resting his head against Louis’ shoulder, even though he has to slouch down, and it’s probably hell on his neck, but he leaves it there, anyway, content.

A few more groups board, and once the deck is mostly filled, they head out onto the river, boat moving slowly, slight breeze cool and welcomed. Harry puts his hand on Louis’ knee and sits up, looking over the edge of the boat. “The water is incredible.”

“Super blue, yeah?”

“Gorgeous.” He looks at Louis. “Just like your eyes.”

Louis laughs. “Mate, the water is toxic.”

“What?”

“It’s so highly polluted, it’s considered toxic water. That’s why it’s so blue. It’s the chemicals in it. You’re not even allowed to touch it.”

Harry blushes, embarrassed. “Okay, whatever. It’s still pretty and so are you.”

Louis laughs again. “Thanks, babe.”

“Shut up.”

He bats his eyes exaggeratedly. “You like these contaminated blue eyes, love?”

“I  _ said, _ shut up.” He looks down at his hands. “But yes, I do.”

“You’re such an idiot.”

Harry smiles. “And you’re stuck with me.”

“Hopefully.”

It’s just one word, barely anything, but it’s the first time he’s voiced that he’s nervous that he and Harry won’t end up together, and that he wants to be with him. Harry clearly catches on, because he frowns, digging his fingers into Louis’ knee.

“Hey. Lou.”

“No, let’s just. Not. Later. We’ll talk about it later.”

He clears his throat. “Okay.”

Louis looks around, purposely not staring at Harry. “That building is big. Let’s talk about that instead.”

Harry nods, slight smile on his face. “Definitely big. Lots of windows.”

“So many.” He slides over on his seat, draping his leg across Harry’s lap. Harry’s hands wrap around his shin on instinct.

“Comfortable?”

“Yeah, not planning on moving this spot.”

“Good.” He presses a quick kiss to Louis’ temple, reassuring. “We could hang out here on this boat all day, though, and I’d be happy.”

He believes him. “That would get boring, probably. And expensive. Very expensive.”

“Guess we’ll have to do something else, then. Like I said, you’re the boss today.”

“Damn right.” They both stop talking to listen to the tour guide talk about the black matte building to their right. When she pauses, Louis says, “I actually have a lot of stuff planned for us today.”

“Gimme a hint?”

He shakes his head. “And where would the fun in that be?”

“I guess there wouldn’t be any.”

“Exactly, now  _ shh _ , the nice lady is telling us about The Great Chicago Fire.”

“Sorry.”

They’re quiet for the rest of the tour, both listening as their tour guide talks about old and new construction, the sound of the waves gently lapping at the side of their boat. Harry’s gaze never wavers from the buildings, listening intently, and Louis’ gaze never wavers from Harry.

At the end of the river, Harry’s telling the tour guide a story about something that happened to him in dental school, because  _ honestly, _ why  _ wouldn’t _ he be befriending their tour guide, when suddenly, he stops and sniffs the air.

“Wait, what am I smelling?”

Louis raises his eyebrows and frowns, playing dumb. “I don’t smell anything?”

“No, really, what is that?” He sniffs again. “Am I smelling chocolate?”

“Are you also tasting pennies?”

“Stop, don’t freak me out.” He pauses. “Wait, oh my God, do you really think I’m having a stroke?!”

Louis laughs and punches Harry on the leg. “It’s the chocolate factory.”

“Wait, where?”

“A few blocks over. There’s always a breeze because of the river and the way the buildings are positioned.” Harry’s face is still frozen and Louis laughs again. “You can relax, you’re not have a stroke. We can stop at the chocolate factory later, if you want to.”

“No, you’re a jerk.” He keeps sniffing the air. “Does smell amazing, though.”

Louis smirks. “We’ll stop.”

“Good.”   
  


* * *

The rest of the day goes by seamlessly. They make a quick stop at the chocolate factory, where Louis asks Harry about 20 or 30 times if he can smell chocolate, and after, he takes him to Grant Park, dragging him past art museums and history museums, Harry whining to stop the whole time.

“What’s going on here?” he asks.

Louis puts his hands on his hips. “Well, this weekend is a big weekend for Grant Park.”

“And why is that?”

“Because they’ve transformed the entire park into a carnival, just for you.”

“Seriously?”

“No, what the hell. What kind of power do you think I have?”

Harry laughs. “But there’s really a carnival going on?”

“Yes, and you just happen to be here for it.”

“Awesome.”

It’s silly, really, that Louis is so giddy to buy candy apples and fried dough and take pictures in photo booths; the line for the bumper cars is outrageous, the ferris wheel looks like it’s nearly 100 years old, there are about a thousand noisy children running around, but Christ, it’s all so good, being here with Harry, and if Louis thought he couldn’t love his city more than before today, he was dead wrong.

They eat disgusting chilidogs and finish them off with Italian ice for lunch, and when Harry suggests they play a round of ring toss, Louis is beside himself.

“Um,  _ yes _ . I seriously  _ dominate _ at this game.”

“You that sure of yourself, Tomlinson?”

“Yes. Best out of five?”

“Should we bet?”

Louis purses his lips together. “Absolutely. If I win, you give me one  _ thousand _ dollars.”

Harry throws his head back and laughs. “Right, because that’s realistic. Try again.”

“Fine. If I win, you have to get a tattoo.”

“That’s a little aggressive…”

“A  _ fake _ one, dummy. At that booth over there.” He points over Harry’s shoulder. “A face tattoo. You’re going to be the most beautiful butterfly, all glittery and pink.”

He laughs again. “You’re on. And if I win, it’s a tramp stamp for you.”

“Works for me.”  _ Because I won't have to get one. _

Louis steps up to the counter and puts down a few dollars. The man in the booth gives him a set of rings, and he makes sure Harry is watching before he takes his aim. He flicks his wrist and the first ring lands on the bottle neck easily. So does the second, and the third. The fourth, though, bounces off, clinking on the pavement on the ground.

Harry whistles. “Shame, shame.”

“Oh, unclench, it was only one ring.”

He smirks. “Try not to mess up the last one…” He moves in close, whispering into Louis’ ear, “But you’re too good to screw up, right? Don’t get all in your head about it.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Are you serious.”

“I have to try everything I can because I’m really bad at this game and I don’t want to walk around as a human butterfly.”

He laughs. “Then why’d you suggest we bet if you knew you sucked at it?!”

“I didn’t know you’d be actually any good at it! And now I’m fucked!”

“Well, surprise, all of my best friends have kids and all we do is play games like this. I’m whipped Uncle Lou.”

“Aw, that’s cute.”

“You know what else is cute? You walking around this carnival with a face painted like you’ve just busted out of your cocoon.”

“Shoot your last ring, Louis.”

Louis winks and turns his focus back to the game. He pauses before he tosses it toward the center, and it hits the edge of the bottle before falling to the floor alongside the one prior. He groans.

“Ha, Mr. Bigshot can only get three out of five.”

He flips him off. “You need  _ four _ to win. God speed.”

The first one actually makes it on easily, and Harry’s facial expression makes it very clear that he hadn’t expected that to happen, but he still says, “See? That’s how it’s done.”

Louis snorts. “Continue, then, Master.”

He wiggles his brows. “Master, huh?”

“Oh, Christ, you’re something else.”

He laughs and flings the next ring, missing every bottleneck entirely. The third ring does exactly the same thing. And the fourth. Harry frowns. “Well.”

“ _ Well, _ seems like you  _ have _ to get this last shot to stay in the game, otherwise I’ll go hold your place in line at the butterfly painting table.”

He groans. “I’m going to be realistic, here. Go get in line.”

“An honest man who knows what he’s worth. I love it.”

Harry cocks his hip and tosses the last ring. It’s such a bad throw, it’s almost laughable, and it doesn’t even come close to landing on a single bottleneck. He drags his hands down his face. “This blows.”

“Harry, that was so shitty, I’m beginning to think you lost on purpose.”

“Lou, it’s, like three o’clock in the afternoon! I’m going to have to walk around like an insect in broad daylight for another six hours! I can assure you, this was  _ not _ on purpose. I’m, unfortunately, just  _ that _ bad at it.”

“Valid point. Okay, let’s go paint you and then go to the roller coaster.”

“Hold up.” He puts his hands in the air. “You didn’t say  _ anything _ about a roller coaster.”

Louis crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re kind of being a wet blanket here, Harold.”

“I will let you paint my entire  _ body. _ Just. No roller coasters.”

“See, I can tell how much you don’t want to, and that just makes me want to get you on it even more now.”

“ _ Louis, _ ” he whines. He grabs Louis’ wrists. “Baby. They’re, like, the only thing I hate. I can’t do them. They freak me out.”

Louis thinks about that for a moment, and Harry strokes lightly over Louis’ pulsepoint. He sighs. “Hey, I’m a little nervous, too, but I saved this date specifically for you. This is something I want to experience together.”

Harry narrows his eyes. “Are you… Mocking me for what I said on our first date.”

Louis shrugs, cracking his knuckles. “I would never do that.”

“Fine. You’re a brat. And I’m getting on that rickety looking piece of shit and I’m probably going to throw up after, but I’m doing it to prove a point.”

He chokes back a laugh. “And what is that point, exactly, H?”

“That life is all about taking chances and you shouldn’t hesitate to do so, even if you want to strangle the person you’re on a date with.” He walks off, kicking dirt as he goes.

Louis can’t stop smiling. “Okay, that’s nice,” he calls after him, “but don’t forget to take that life chance painted like a butterfly!”

 

After they get off the roller coaster, a few spectators recognize Harry as the bachelor and take his picture, perfectly timed as he pukes into the trashcan.

Painted like a butterfly.   
  


* * *

It’s around dinner time when Louis tells Harry it’s time to wrap up at the carnival and head to their final destination. Harry asks where they’re going, and Louis tells him it’s a secret, surprised at himself that he hasn’t slipped up yet.

Louis gives their driver the address, and leans back in his leather seat, watching the city whiz by them. Harry does the same, and they’re both quiet, taking in the views, hands reaching out for each other on instinct across the seat. Up until recently, Louis had never been a fan of silence, never finding it to be of comfort. As of lately, he’s changed his mind.

They drive for about 40 minutes, exiting the city, and when they pull into a suburban neighborhood, Harry looks at Louis, confusion written all over his face.

“You’ll see,” he says.

They drive for another few minutes and eventually turn into a crowded driveway, cars littering the street. There are red and navy balloons tied to the mailbox, music playing loudly from the backyard, a few kids running across the front yard, and a bounce house and slide is visible over the top of the fence.

“Lou, what are we doing here? Whose house is this?”

Louis opens his car door. “Come on, get out.”

Harry climbs out, too, slamming his door shut behind him. “Seriously, where are we?”

He walks a bit up the driveway, waiting for Harry to follow, then stops. “This is a hometown date, yes?”

“Correct…”

“You’ve already been to my hometown. I grew up in London. The outskirts. We went there together.”

Harry smiles. “I remember, I was there.”

“And you met my family. Well, some of them.”

“I think I recall that, too.”

He clears his throat. “I want you to meet my other family.”

“Your… What?”

“My reason for not moving back to London. These are my people, and they’re the closest thing to family I’m ever going to find here. Let’s go out back.” He starts to head in the direction of the backyard. “It’s Jackson’s birthday.”

Harry catches up with him, falling into step beside him. “Who’s Jackson?”

“My best friend’s two-year-old. Or rather, three-year-old now. Jesus. Can’t believe he’s already three.”

A light bulb seems to go off in Harry’s head. “And that’s where we are now? Your best friend’s house to celebrate his son’s third birthday?”

“Very good, love.”

Harry grabs Louis’ arm. His expression is ridiculously soft. “Lou, are you bringing me home to meet your family?”

He nods, a lump in his throat. “That’s what you’re supposed to do on hometown dates, and I can’t really do that here, now can I? I can’t take you on a typical hometown date so I guess this is the next best thing? And, like, whenever I’m homesick, they seem to fix it and…”

Louis doesn’t know how to finish his sentence, but Harry seems to get it, anyway. He pulls him into a crushing hug and murmurs into his ear, “Let’s go meet your people. Your other family.”

He nods again. “Okay.” He pushes through the gate that leads to the backyard and immediately feels a thousand times lighter upon seeing the familiar faces he’s gone without for the past few months.

Niall spots him first and he breaks out into a broad grin. “Louis!” he shrieks, getting the attention of nearly everyone in the backyard, and all at once, it’s too much, and Louis can’t be blamed for the way his eyes fill up with tears.

He barely makes it another five feet into the yard before he has so many pairs of arms wrapped around him, he can’t tell where or who they’re coming from, and God, he would  _ never _ tell his mum this, but being here feels more like home than London ever did.

 

After Louis is able to pull himself together and kiss every single person in the yard directly on the lips, he’s less overwhelmed and can finally focus on introducing Harry to everyone. He starts with Liam.

“Harry, this is my best friend. Jackson is my pride and joy. Liam is lucky I share him.”

Liam laughs. “Yes, how fortunate I am that you share  _ my _ son with  _ me. _ ”

“I know, that’s what I said.”

He rolls his eyes at Louis and turns to Harry, still smiling. “I really want to give you the benefit of the doubt because Louis has an amazing judgement of character and I know he wouldn’t have brought you here if he didn’t think you were a wonderful person but why the fuck are you at my kid’s birthday party painted like a butterfly? It’s a little questionable, dude.”

Harry reaches up and touches his cheek. “Jesus, I forgot, honestly. I lost a bet with Lou earlier and now I’m stuck like this.”

“Sounds about right. Do you want a drink?”

“Please.” He watches Liam walk off in search of a drink and frowns. “Lou, can I wash this off yet? It’s humiliating to meet your best friends like this.”

“Aw, sore loser?”

“No.” He pouts. “Yes.”

He laughs. “I’ll bring you to the bathroom.”

They head inside, getting stopped three more times by more friends, all asking what’s up with Harry’s face, and by the time they actually make it to the bathroom, Harry’s blush is almost visible through the thick paint on his cheeks.

“That’s the _ last _ time I ever bet against you.”

“Maybe you should just get better at ring toss…”

“Yeah, that’s a start.” He heads into the bathroom, closing the door behind him, and Louis leans up against the hallway door, waiting for him to finish. He emerges a minute later, face scrubbed and pink paint gone, hairline damp. “Hi.”

“Ah, there he is. Missed your ugly face. The original one, not the one with glitter caked all over it.”

“Thanks, baby.” He takes a step forward, crowding into Louis’ space. “Did I tell you that you looked gorgeous today?”

Louis licks his lips. “No, I don’t think you did.”

“Unfairly hot. These jeans are ridiculous.” He’s staring at Louis’ lips fairly obviously and Louis’ stomach clenches. “Do you have any idea how attracted to you I am? All the time?” He doesn’t bother waiting for Louis’ response before he leans in to kiss him, hands immediately gripping at his waist, and Louis’ okay with that because he couldn’t come up with adequate words, anyway.

He whines at the way Harry controls the kiss, tipping Louis’ head back, biting at Louis’ bottom lip, pressing their hips together, his mouth hot and slick. It’s a lot, to think that he’s in his best friend’s house being kissed by the guy they used to watch on TV together - in secrecy, of course, as Liam made him  _ swear _ on it, which means nothing because Louis has told just about everyone they work with - but now, he’s so much more than that, and Louis’ having issues comprehending that, verbalizing it. He’s in so deep and all he can do is hang onto Harry, bracing himself for whatever’s to come.

When they pull apart, Harry’s breathing is a little uneven and Louis thinks his sounds about the same. He drags his finger across Louis’ collarbone. “Wanted to do that all day. It was driving me crazy.”

Louis hums in agreement. “What was stopping you?”

“Didn’t wanna smudge my paint.”

He smiles. “Good point.”

“And, also, no cameras here now.”

Louis looks around and realizes he’s right. He’s grown so accustomed to them that it barely registers when they’re there and when they’re not. “Cameras haven’t really stopped you before, Styles.”

“I know,” he agrees. “Just. Wanted a minute alone with you. To kiss you and touch you without everyone else getting to see it. I don’t always want to share you.”

How fucking ironic. “Kiss me again.”

“Okay,” he says easily. This time, he pushes Louis up against the wall, deepening the kiss, and Louis whimpers when he feels Harry starting to get hard against him.

“Christ,” he spits out, breaking the kiss as quickly as it started, burying his head into Harry’s chest. “It’s so annoying that people would notice if we went missing for an hour or two.”

Harry nods, hands reaching down to palm at Louis’ ass through his jeans a bit helplessly, and Louis whimpers again. “I have never been this sexually frustrated in my life,” Harry says through gritted teeth. “I’m gonna need a minute.”

Louis snorts. “You’re telling me.”

He kisses Louis’ jaw once, twice, three times, then steps back. “Okay.” He clears his throat. “Should get back outside. Liam was getting me a drink.”

“Fuck Liam.” He pauses. “No, wait, don’t do that.”

He laughs. “I won’t. But I should really make the rounds with everyone else, right? If they’re important to you, they’re important to me.”

Louis briefly closes his eyes. “They’re the most important.”

“Okay, then that’s how I feel about them, too.” He heads out of the hallway and back into the living room without another word or a single glance backward, and Louis has to count to 20 three times over before he’s sure he’s not going to scream or put his head through the wall.

 

Everyone loves Harry, which comes as a surprise to no one. The women think he’s sweet, the men think he’s a riot, and the kids are over the moon about a new addition to the bunch that actually wants to play tag and wiffle ball for hours on end.

Harry is in the middle of tossing an endless string of kids down the bouncy slide when Zayn pulls Louis away from the rest of the crowd.

“So. I’d like an apology.”

Louis crosses his arms. “For…”

“For making me feel like the biggest jackass on the planet for signing you up for this and now you’re essentially married.”

He snorts. “Okay, let’s not get carried away, here.”

“I’m not. Look at him.” They both turn and Louis’ lips immediately quirk up into a smile as he watches Harry pile Jackson and Mia onto his lap, all three bouncing down the slide together. “Everyone is obsessed with him. You included.”

Louis turns back to Zayn. “Yeah, that’s exactly the point.  _ Everyone _ is obsessed with him. He has three more dates to go on this week, with three other guys. This isn’t a sure thing, Zayn.”

Zayn nods. “Are you freaking out at all?”

“Outwardly, no. Internally, it’s a raging panic-fest.”

He smiles. “Do you love him?”

Louis looks down at his hands, ripping off a broken nail off of his thumb. “Don’t you think it’s too early?”

“Not necessarily. When did you tell Nate you loved him?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. A couple of months, probably.”

“So, same time frame for you and Harry, right?”

“It’s not the same, though, Zayn. Nathan and I were inseparable. We basically lived inside each other. I’ve only had a handful of dates with Harry.”

“Yeah, a handful of intense dates that Nate could have never competed with. Are you saying that you and Harry  _ wouldn’t _ be inseparable if you didn’t have the opportunity?” When Louis doesn’t answer, Zayn continues. “I don’t know, Lou. Just sounds like you’re making up excuses to me.”

“Zayn, this is the weirdest situation I’ve ever been in. I have nothing to compare it to, no one to ask for advice, so excuse me for being a little hesitant. I’m terrified.”

He nods, pursing his lips together. “I don’t think you need to be terrified.”

“How could I not be?!”

Zayn turns to look at Harry again, who now has birthday cake smeared across his face, and all of the kids are laughing hysterically, some with tears in their eyes. “Because based on the way he’s spent the entire night playing with a bunch of stranger’s kids ‘cause he knows what they mean to you, I’m gonna have to go with he’s in love with you, too.”

Louis can’t turn away from Harry. “I want to believe that.”

“Have you seen the way he looks at you? It’s disgusting. There’s no way that guy isn’t head over heels for you.”

“But what if he’s looking at the other guys the same way?”

“Louis.” Zayn grabs his shoulders, forcing him to meet his gaze. “If you really thought that you two weren’t on the same page, would you still be here right now?”

He squirms to get out of Zayn’s grip, but he’s  _ strong. _ “Probably not, no.”

“Trust your gut, okay? I’ve known the real life Harry Styles for about five hours now, and I can say with confidence that there is no one better suited for you than he is. Really.”

He closes his eyes for a moment and exhales. “Okay.”

Zayn drops his hands. “Have you told him?”

“Told him what?”

“That you love him? Or that you’re coming out of your skin you’re so scared?”

He shakes his head. “Neither.”

“Don’t you think maybe you should?”

Louis sighs and rolls his eyes. “Yes, mum, I’ll talk to my boyfriend about my  _ feelings. _ ”

“Thank you, dear,” he replies in a terrible British accent. “Now, go on with it.”

“Right now?!”

“Yes. Go. Before I do it for you and you look like a total dick for making your best friend tell your boyfriend that you like him, like we’re in sixth grade or some shit.”

“Ugh. Fine. But I need a drink first.”

“Deal.”

 

One drink turns into two, and two turns into seven.

He’s more than a little tipsy when he finally works up the nerve to drag Harry away from the rest of the group, and his legs wobble a bit as he tries to situate himself up against the fence. Harry’s staring at him with a shit-eating grin on his face because he can totally tell Louis is teetering on the edge of too drunk for a child’s birthday party and Louis wants to punch him, and possibly himself. But first, he needs to sit.

He slides down the length of the fence, the grass damp underneath him. Harry sits down, too, their knees knocking together.

“You should drink more often. Love how pink your cheeks get.” He reaches over to touch Louis’ skin but Louis knocks his hand away.

“Okay. It’s time to talk.”

“About what?”

“We kinda started to discuss it on the boat but I told you later.” He looks up at Harry and then back down again. “Later is now.”

“Oh.” He puts his hand on Louis’ knee. “Okay. Good.”

Louis ignores the way Harry’s palm feels, the way the cameras are aiming directly at his face, the way Zayn is doing a poor job at concealing the way he’s blatantly staring at them from across the yard. Instead, he only focuses on the words that are stuck on the tip of his tongue. “I don’t think I’m ready to tell you every single thing that’s on my mind.”

“That’s fair.”

He nods. “Harry, I’m seriously so crazy about you, you know that, right?”

Harry squeezes his knee. “It’s good to hear.”

He smiles briefly, trying not to feel uneasy. “I love the idea of a future with you. It’s like… Not farfetched anymore, is it?”

“No, it isn’t.”

He nods again. “I want it, you and me.” He squints his eyes, trying to ward off his impending headache. “But it really freaks me out thinking that you can have an idea of a future with other people, too.”

Harry doesn’t say anything for a minute, just drags his thumb across the rip in Louis’ jeans at the knee. “I don’t want you to be nervous. I’m completely crazy about you, too.” Louis drags his fingers through the grass and pulls out a clump, making a small pile, can’t look up at Harry. He continues. “It’s important that this is mutual because it’s really difficult to read  _ anyone _ in this situation and we have to be open and honest and fearless. It’s a two way street, Lou. We have to pick each other in the end, right?”

“Right.” It’s all he can manage to choke out, but Harry doesn’t ask him to say anything else, content to wrap his arm around Louis’ shoulders and pull him in close, kissing the skin right below his ear.

They don’t say much after that, and it’s not like anything either of them said was a heavy admission, really, but Louis still feels a bit better. He’s now verbalized that he’s imagining this to be permanent situation, he and Harry, and Harry knows.

He looks up at Harry after a while, who’s staring at the ongoing party with a lopsided smirk on his face, and Louis pokes him on the chest. “What do you think? Of all these people?”

He grabs Louis’ pointer finger to get him to stop poking. “These people are outstanding, Louis.”

“I think so, too.”

“Like, I want to adopt Niall.”

He laughs. “We all do.”

Harry brushes his hands on his thighs. “Wanna go back and be social? I’m only here for another hour or two before I have to leave.”

He frowns and scoots over closer to Harry, nudging his head under Harry’s arm. “No. You’re not leaving.”

He kisses him on the forehead. “Believe me, I don’t want to.”

Louis sighs. “And I won’t be able to see you until next weekend?”

Harry nods. “Right. Back in LA.”

“Ugh. LA.”

“Not enjoying it there?”

“Yeah, I totally love being caged inside the mansion like a fucking animal.”

“Oh,  _ what _ a problem.”

Louis punches Harry’s thigh. “That’s enough out of you.”

They stand up together and make their way back to the group, Harry heading over to Zayn, Louis being dragged away by Jackson and his friends, and it feels so normal, so typical to be having a cookout on this lazy Saturday night in May with his best friends and his best boy, that he has to close his eyes whenever the cameras are near. He’s not ready to face the reality of it, not yet.

 

An hour later, Louis is laying on his stomach on the ground, Jackson and Mia doodling with paint on his back, when Harry drops down to his knees beside him.

“I was gonna tell you that I have to get going but this is  _ way _ more interesting. What’s going on here?”

“Jack got a body paint set for his birthday and I’m drunk and volunteered to be his first subject.”

Harry laughs and peers over to see what they’ve done so far. “See, it’s funny, because I lost the bet earlier, but somehow, you still ended up with a tramp stamp.”

“What’s a tramp stamp, Uncle Lou?” Jackson asks.

Louis ignores him in favor of grabbing the paper plate next to him with his half eaten piece of cake on it and smashing it directly into Harry’s face.

 

Once the paint and cake is gone, Louis walks Harry out, car waiting for him at the end of the driveway, ready to take him on his next adventure. Louis  _ hates _ that it’s not an adventure with him, and that’s very telling.

He lets Harry press him up against the side of the car and kiss his knuckles, the inside of his wrist, his shoulder, his neck, his lips. Louis clings onto him a little too tightly, seeing as he’ll see him in just a few days, but his heart is lodged in his throat, anyway.

“Not gonna be able to stop thinking about you,” he whispers against Harry’s lips, and he can try to blame it on the alcohol all he wants, but they both know that would be absolute bullshit.

“I can never stop thinking about you.”

Harry kisses him slowly and surely, just the way Louis wants him to, and Louis has to clench his fists up and push Harry away before he feels like he could stop breathing completely.

“See you in a few days, love.”

He brushes his curls out of his eyes and Louis tries not to actively stare at his waterline, wet and threatening to spill over. “I’ll see you then, baby.” He kisses Louis one more time, thorough and too much for the camera’s sake, and then he’s off.

Louis walks back to the party, feeling a little worse, a little better, and mostly everyone has vacated, leaving just Liam, Zayn, their wives, and kids. The bounce slide and house have both been deflated, the trash cans are overflowing, bits and shreds of wrapping paper all over the yard, and it’s very fitting that it looks like a warzone in here.

“I hate this,” he says out loud to no one in particular, and he is  _ not _ crying.

Liam laughs and Zayn comes over, wrapping him up in a hug. “He’ll be back.”

“But how do you  _ know _ ?”

He steps back and smiles. “I had a good conversation with him. That boy  _ likes _ you, Lou.”

“Why, what’d he say?”

“He, just. Thanked me. For sending you to him. For bringing you two together. And that he’s so lucky to know you.”

His eyes fill up even more. “Oh, Christ, that’s even worse than I thought it would be.”

Zayn chuckles, running his fingers through his hair. “Do you need another drink?”

“No, I definitely do not.  _ Want _ is another story, though. Gimme.”

 

Louis, Zayn, and Liam sit around in the backyard for way too long, Louis describing the past couple of months the best that he can without sounding like a total lovesick idiot, and by the time he falls asleep on Liam’s couch, he has no idea how many beers he’s had or who gives him the blanket.

He’s happy, though. He  _ does _ know that.   
  


* * *

Louis, Casey, Cam, and Bryce are lined up side by side, all in suits, and Louis isn’t sure about the rest of them, but he’s profusely sweating, and it’s safe to assume the other three are, too.

Harry is standing at the front of the room with a short table next to him, a tray of roses on top. There are only three, and all of a sudden, it’s so fucking real that they’re nearing the finish line, that this is all almost over. Louis has to remind himself to breathe.

Chris places his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Harry, gentlemen, tonight, there are three roses. The man not called will have a moment to say his goodbye’s and will then immediately leave the mansion following the rose ceremony. Harry, you may begin.”

Harry nods, frowning. “Okay, before we start, I just wanted to say that I had such a great time visiting everyone’s homes and families and I can’t thank you all enough for inviting me into your towns. It was amazing, and that’s what makes this even harder.” He swallows hard and picks up a rose. “Bryce.”

Bryce steps forward, smile on his face. Harry asks if he’ll accept this rose, Bryce says yes, they embrace, and Louis wants to hurl.

Harry takes a deep breath, picking up the second rose. “Cameron.”

Cam exhales and accept his rose, as well. Louis can nearly feel Casey’s heartbeat alongside his own.

Chris rejoins their group, standing next to Harry. “Harry, this is the final rose. Take your time.” Harry nods, and looks down at his hands.

Louis taps his fingers uselessly against his thighs, and it’s impossible to not be nervous. He thinks -  _ knows _ \- he has an amazing connection with Harry, one that no one can touch. But what if Casey feels the exact same way?

He almost misses Harry calling his name, the rushing in his ears nearly deafening, and when he walks up to Harry, he sees that his hands are trembling.

“Louis,” he murmurs, “will you accept this rose?”

“Did you really think I would say no?”

He smiles, his shoulders going lax. “There’s always doubt.”

Louis nods, understanding, but. “Not with me, there isn’t. Not really.”

Harry doesn’t say anything else after that, but his eyes never leave Louis’ face, even when he pins the rose to Louis’ lapel. He hugs him, just like he did with Bryce and Cam, but this time, he buries his face into the crook of Louis’ neck, breathing deeply, Louis rubbing his hand up and down Harry’s back.

He’s vaguely aware that they’re not the only ones in the room, and he suddenly feels very uncomfortable, knowing the rest of the guys are most likely staring at them. He drops his hands and pulls back. “You’re crushing my rose, Styles,” he mumbles.

Harry smiles briefly. “Sorry.”

Louis walks back to his spot amongst the other guys, the room deadly quiet, and he waits patiently as Casey and Harry head out the door together, Harry’s hand on the small of Casey’s back, both wearing matching frowns.

Bryce is the first to break the silence with a loud sigh. “So, does anyone else feel like these are getting less and less enjoyable every week?”

Cam laughs, his voice wavering a bit. “Yeah, let’s talk about something else until Harry gets back.”

Bryce nods. “Please. How were your hometown dates? Lou, what’d you guys do? You don’t have any family here, right?”

Louis smiles, twisting his hands together. He could go into an in depth conversation about how special it was to have Harry there, loving on his makeshift family, but he wants to keep it just between them. That is, until it’s aired on national television. “Yeah, no family,” he replies. “My best mate had a birthday party for his little lad, so we stopped by there, instead.”

“Aw, that’s nice.”

“It was.” He turns to Cam. “How’d it go for you?”

Cam rolls his eyes. “Did you know,” he says in a tone that implies he’s still pissed off, “that if the producers of the network don’t think your own home is deemed appropriate by Mr. ABC himself, they make you film in someone else’s house and  _ pretend _ it’s your own?”

“What?!” Louis and Bryce both say together.

He nods, expression on his face hardly amused. “Apparently, my childhood home wasn’t ‘nice’ enough, so we had to shoot at my aunt and uncle’s house. Unbelievable,” he scoffs, shaking his head.

“That is ridiculously stupid,” Bryce says.

“What is?” Harry asks, walking back in through the door.

The three men turn and look, and Louis answers for them. “The way you tie your shoelaces. What grown man still has to do the bunny ear loops?”

Cam laughs. “That’s true, he does do that.”

Harry rolls his eyes and stands in front of them, gaze going back and forth between each of their faces. He’s holding a glass of champagne and he takes a tentative sip. “And then there were three.”

“Three Musketeers,” Bryce says.

Louis shrugs. “More like The Three Stooges.”

Harry smirks briefly. “This week was hard. Like, it’s been getting harder, but now that I’ve met your families, it’s harder to say goodbye.” He stares at the door. “That wasn’t fun. At all. And I know next week, it’s going to be even worse.” He frowns slightly, absentmindedly rubbing the stem of the glass between his fingers. “But I made the right decision. And having you three here makes me feel so, so lucky, and I wanted you to know that.”

A crew member walks over to them and hands them each their own champagne class. Louis takes his and holds it up. “To us. All four of us.”

Harry nods, and holds up his glass, too. “Thank you.”

They all clink their glasses together, and when Louis feels Harry relax beside him, that’s when he feels like he can breathe again, too.   
  


* * *

They find out they’re heading to Fiji as their final destination, the tropical spot in which one of them will get engaged, and Louis tries not to let that overwhelm him. Instead, he takes two sleeping pills and passes out for the duration of the nearly 24-hour long flight.

Fiji is stunning, the most stunning place they’ve been to thus far. The water doesn’t even look real, it’s so clear, and he’s almost afraid to touch it, not wanting to disturb it.

Louis, Cam, and Bryce set themselves up inside three separate houses that all hover above the water on stilts - the most unreal thing Louis has ever seen - and he’s almost reluctant to leave the suite, in awe that he’s allowed to stay somewhere so beautiful, so magical.

Chris Harrison knocks on Louis’ door halfway through the first day. “How’re you enjoying paradise so far?”

“I don’t want to marry Harry anymore. I’d rather marry this island.”

He laughs. “I’ll pass that message along. But in the meantime.” He waves an envelope around. “Date card for you, sir.”

“Oh!” Louis skips over to Chris and takes the envelope from him. “Thank you, servant.”

He grabs a throw pillow from the couch and throws it at Louis. “I hope you don’t drown in the ocean.”

“Now,  _ that _ doesn’t sound too sincere.”

“Huh. Probably because it wasn’t. Enjoy your date!”

Louis laughs, opening up the envelope. “Thanks, love.”

__ Louis, dive into paradise with me. Harry.  
  


* * *

The morning before their final one-on-one date, Harry shows up at Louis’ door with the camera crew and a bag full the essentials: Pop-Tarts, Cheetos, Chex Mix, Nutella, and M&M’s. He tosses the bag to Louis as he takes a seat on the couch, pulling his knees up to his chest.

“What the hell is all this crap? It’s amazing, you’re an angel.”

He laughs. “I dunno. I had a bunch of junk food in my room and thought, who better to share this with than the Trash King himself?”

“Oh, wow, what a flattering nickname, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Louis rips open the bag of M&M’s, spilling them out onto the coffee table in front of him, sorting them by color. He can feel Harry’s gaze on him as he reaches for the red ones, leaving the others behind. “Are you staring for a reason?”

“You’re something else. You know they all taste exactly the same, right.”

“Your palette clearly hasn’t evolved if you think the red tastes the same as the others.”

“You’re like my kids at work. I probably spend about 25% of my day waiting around while kids try to choose between either the purple or the green toothbrush.”

“I mean, that’s an important decision, Dr. Styles. Who are you to judge?”

“I suppose you’re right.” He clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Speaking of work.”

Louis looks up. “What about it?”

“So, like, if at the end of this whole thing, we end up together…” He trails off frowning. “Would you leave Chicago to move to San Francisco to be with me?”

“Oh.” He puts down the rest of the chocolate and wipes his hands on his shorts. “I hadn’t really thought about it much.”

“At all?”

He shrugs. “Not seriously.”

“Okay, well, that kind of sucks, because I’m trying to picture a future with you and it hurts to know you haven’t given it a any thought.”

“Hey.” He twists on the couch so he’s facing Harry completely. “I  _ have _ . I promise. I just don’t really have an answer, I guess, is what I meant.” Harry’s still frowning. “Okay, let’s talk about it now, yeah?”

Harry nods. “Okay.”

“What’re you thinking?”

He exhales loudly. “That I’m not sure I can leave California.”

Louis rolls his shoulders, already irritated. “Okay… And I don’t know if I can leave Chicago.”

“But it’s different for me. I have a practice there. And all my family.”

“So? I have a job, too, one I’ve worked really hard for, and I have all my friends there. Why should I be the one to leave?”

“Don’t get all defensive, Lou.”

“Of  _ course _ I’m defensive. My life is important, too. I already picked up and moved once. And that was hard enough.”

“So why can’t you do it again?”

“What the fuck?” He clenches and unclenches his fists. “Do you know how selfish you sound? Moving to another country was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done in my life. You  _ know _ how important my family is to me. And to suggest I have to do it all over again? Harry. Can you imagine being six hours behind your family?”

He shakes his head. “No, I guess I can’t.”

“If I permanently moved to California, I’d be behind  _ eight. _ When would I  _ ever _ be able to talk to them?”

“I don’t know, Louis.”

“Jesus.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “Is this a dealbreaker? Like, you moving away from San Francisco is a firm no?” Even the idea of that makes his stomach hurt, half pissed, half on the verge of tears, and it must be written all over his face based on the way Harry’s entire demeanor softens.

“No, Lou, that’s not what I’m saying. It’s just a discussion that needs to be had. I need to know where we stand. This is a normal conversation a couple would have. We’re just not in a normal situation.”

Louis nods. “That makes sense, I guess.”

“Right.” He looks down at his lap and then back up at Louis. “For me, moving away from San Francisco is unrealistic. I’m new to my practice, and I don’t know how easy it would be to join another practice again, especially in some place I’m completely unfamiliar with.”

No, the tears are gone. He’s just pissed. “That’s super hypocritical, Harry. You’re not better than me just because you’re a doctor. Relocating wouldn’t be easy for me, either.”

Harry sighs. “Louis, it’s really fucking difficult to make these kind of decisions when you’re the way you are.”

Louis stands up at that. “What the fuck does  _ that _ mean and you better tread really fucking lightly.”

He doesn’t get up, just remains frozen from his position on the couch. “I don’t always know how you feel. About me.”

He stares at Harry like he has six heads. “You must be kidding.”

“No, I’m really not.”

“I have been  _ nothing _ but honest with you from day one. Do you expect me to trip over myself for you, like everyone else does?”

“No, never. That’s what I like about you. That you never act a certain way around me.”

“Then what are you trying to say?!”

Harry puts his head into his hands, obviously as frustrated as Louis is. “Don’t think that I’m comparing you to anyone when I say this--”

“You’re already off to a bad start, I can tell you now.”

“--but I know exactly how Cameron and Bryce feel about me. They can verbalize it. I never have any doubt with them. I don’t have to guess. With you…”

Louis sneers, and he’s seeing red. Hell, he can almost  _ taste _ it. “I don’t give a fuck about Cam and Bryce. One single bit. As far as I’m concerned, they don’t fucking exist. This is about  _ us. _ And you’re going to sit there and tell me you’d rather be with one of them because they’re willing to up and move to your perfect fucking home without an argument or care in the world.”

“I didn’t say  _ any _ of that! Christ, Louis.” He stands, now, staring at Louis directly in the eye. “Being in this position is so fucking hard, okay? You think  _ you _ have to second guess everything? Try being  _ me. _ All I do is worry and stress over every little thing.”

“Oh, poor Harry, everyone wants him and he can’t fucking decide what he wants.”

“It’s not like that! Fuck!” He rubs his eyes with the palm of his hand. “I know I told you I enjoy the chase, but Louis. Give me  _ something _ to work with.”

“I am! I’m giving you  _ everything, _ but you just don’t want to fucking listen to me!”

“No,  _ you’re _ not listening to  _ me. _ I have to choose, okay? I have to choose between three people who care about me, whom I care about, too, and I thought I knew what the end game was, but now I’m not sure, because the one I wanted can’t tell me exactly what he’s thinking about our relationship or even discuss moving without having a fucking panic attack. I have to choose and it’s tearing me apart and I can’t fucking think straight. I have to pick. I have to.”

Louis covers his ears with his hands, can’t listen anymore, and he wants to turn the world off. “Just because I can’t say the words you want to hear specifically doesn’t mean I’m not  _ in _ this, so how  _ dare _ you tell me that I’m not worth it,” he nearly screams, “because I tell you how I feel every damn day. It’s written all over my face, the way I touch you, the way we talk, I fucking  _ know _ it.” He’s shaking, tears spilling over, and he wants to leave the island, as absurd as that rationality is. “Stop saying you have to choose, stop saying you have to pick. I can’t. I can’t fucking.”

“Louis…”

“No, get out. Just. Out. Please.” He’s crying harder now, completely humiliated, and Harry won’t move.

“No, I’m staying here, we’re fixing this.”

Louis looks around frantically for his shoes. “I’ll leave, then.”

“This is  _ your _ room.”

He’ll leave without shoes, fuck it. “I don’t care.”

“I do, though.”

“Awesome. Don’t follow me. And don’t be here when I come back.”

“Louis.”

He walks out the door and slams it behind him, heading down the boardwalk, not bothering to turn back around to see who’s following him. He can hear the crew behind him, and fortunately, Harry listened, staying back.

He makes it to the edge of the beach before he realizes how many tremors his body has. He’s shaking, hands nearly twitching with it, and he looks around frantically, eyes blurred.

“Lydia,” he calls out, voice shaky.

She’s at his side in a second, taking off her headphones, letting her clipboard drop to the sand. “Lou, what just happened in there?”

“It’s happening again.”

“What’s happening again?”

“It’s.” His eyes sting. “I can’t do it again.”

“Lou, sweetheart, can’t do  _ what _ again?”

“Be in this position again! Make someone choose between me and someone else! I can’t fucking do it!” He sinks down to the sand on his knees, taking shallow breaths. “It’s not fucking fair!”

Lydia drops to her knees, too. “You have to give me more than that. Come on, Louis. What are you talking about.”

He clenches his fists up, willing himself to breathe. “I’m over it, okay? I swear I’m over him. But those shit feelings don’t go away over night.”

“Him? Harry?”

“Fuck. No. Not Harry. Nathan.”

“Your ex?”

He digs his fingers into the sand. “People get cheated on all the time. I’m not special for that. Fuck.” He’s pissed that his hands won’t stop shaking. “But I let him pick between me and someone else and look where I am now.”

“Oh, Lou…”

“While I was picking out engagement rings, he was, too. Just not for  _ me _ .” He wipes at his eyes uselessly, humiliated. “Goddamnit. And I thought he just had a lapse in judgement. Because I was so fucking stupid. I thought if I gave him the choice between me and the other guy, he would have picked me. I let him choose. And he didn’t choose me.” He breathes in, out, in. “I was so sure he would choose me. I was nearly positive. And now I’m in the same Goddamn situation again. I’m letting someone I’m the most sure about choose between me and someone else, and what if I’m wrong again? I can’t go through that again. I can’t. I was finally back to normal. What if I can’t recover twice?! Lydia.” He nearly chokes on his last sentence.

Lydia looks up at the rest of the crew, eyes blazing. “You guys can stop recording now. Give him a fucking second, for the love of God.”

Louis watches as they lower their cameras, but his mic is still turned on, and at this point, he doesn’t really care. He just lets Lydia gather him in a hug, and he murmurs into her shoulder, “Somehow, three months with Harry means more than three  _ years _ with Nathan, and I feel sick to my stomach.”

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers.

He nods, still hanging onto her. “Yeah. Me, too.”   
  


* * *

It takes him 20 minutes on the beach to collect himself, and he’s absolutely mortified. Lydia has a permanent expression of fear and worry etched across her face, Dale looks beyond uncomfortable, and all Louis wants to do is crawl into his bed in paradise and sleep until it’s time to go home, whenever that may be.

He gets a knock on the door just before midnight, though, and he knows before he opens it that it’s Harry.

He’s standing there looking as defeated as Louis feels, hair pushed back into a headband, t-shirt stretched out around the neck. His voice cracks when he asks, “Can I come in?”

Louis nods, standing back to make room, suddenly aware that he’s in boxers and Harry is fully clothed. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Harry…”

He holds up his hands to stop him. “Lou.” He takes a step forward. “I’m, like.”

Louis reaches out and touches Harry’s hand, light and fleeting, and that’s enough invitation for Harry to wrap up Louis in the safest, most careful hug he’s ever received.

They stand there, tangled up in each other, for God only knows how long. Their breathing eventually synchronizes, Harry’s hand moving in time against his back to Louis’ heartbeat, and by the time they pull apart, Louis feels more stable than he has in the past five hours.

He looks up and sees the angry red waterline of Harry’s eyes, and he hates it. He drags his finger along Harry’s cheekbone, Harry’s eyes fluttering closed, and he turns slightly to kiss Louis’ palm.

“Lou, I’m so sorry.”

Louis shakes his head. “No, you don’t get to do that.”

“I do, though. I bombarded you and it was obviously something you weren’t ready to talk about, and eventually we’ll get to why it freaked you out so bad, but I should have listened and stopped. I pushed you. And that wasn’t okay.”

“Okay, that’s fair.” He sticks his hands into Harry’s pockets for no reason other than it makes Harry smile, and he does. He leans his head against his chest. “I’m sorry I was such an asshole.”

“I’m sorry if I made you feel like I’m pitting you up against other people, because I most definitely am not. You are your own category, Tomlinson.”

Louis smiles into Harry’s shirt. “I’m sorry I walked out on you.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t solved world hunger yet.”

“Is that all your fault now?”

“I’ll take the blame, while I’m on a roll.”

“That’s nice of you.”

Harry hums against the top of his head. “Do you still want to go on our one-on-one tomorrow?”

“Yes, of course, H.”

He breathes out a sigh of relief. “I just want to be with you.”

Louis nods. “That’s what I want, too.”

“Thank God.” He wraps his arms back up around Louis, squeezing tightly, kissing his cheek. “I really am sorry, Louis.”

“I know, love. Me, too.”

Harry kisses him before he leaves, thoughtfully and purposefully, and technically, nothing has been resolved, but they’ll get there. Eventually. Louis watches him walk down the boardwalk and onto the beach until he disappears completely into the darkness.

He slips into Harry’s San Fran sweatpants, the material already thinning in certain spots, and it’s honestly too warm for pants, but he needs them for comfort. He grabs the bag of M&M’s on the coffee table on his way to bed and tosses a blue one into his mouth.

“He’s totally crazy,” he says out loud to himself. “This one has a  _ completely _ different taste than the red ones. He’s nuts. Absolutely mad.” He peers into the bag and sees that there are only green and yellow left now; he counts how much of each before he closes his eyes and pops on into his mouth. “Yellow. 100% yellow. It has that yellow flavor.” He recounts the candies left in the bag, and realizes he ate a green one.

Oh.

Well, maybe we’re  _ all _ a little mad here.

With that, he turns off the table on the nightstand and falls asleep before he can give it one more second of thought.   
  


* * *

This is the first time Louis has woken up not ecstatic to be going on a date with Harry.

He can’t shake it, can’t stop thinking about yesterday - positive Harry is feeling the same - and it’s left him with an uneasy feeling stuck at the bottom of his stomach.

He tries to focus on something else,  _ anything _ else, hoping that he doesn’t fuck up the rest of their time here, or their relationship, and makes the executive decision to push the argument out of his mind completely in order to have a great day.

Not the healthiest approach, but it’ll do.

He settles on dressing like a proper tourist for their date, wearing flip flops, a floral bathing suit, a loose fitting black t-shirt, and a snapback to block the sun. He meets Harry on the water’s edge, hoping they can concentrate on their date, the ocean, the sun, each other.

Harry holds out his arms for Louis, forced smile on his face. Louis is sure his expression is mirrored as he carefully wraps his own arms around Harry’s body, uncomfortable and nervous, the first time he’s  _ ever _ felt that way around this boy.

That won’t do.

Harry pulls back and casts his gaze down. “Hi,” he says, smile still weak.

Jesus, Louis fucked up. He stands up on his tip toes and presses a kiss to Harry’s cheek, trying to remedy what’s started to unravel. “Hi hot stuff.”

His smiles changes and this time, it’s real. “Wanna do something fun today?”

“Please.” He sighs, relaxing. “Like what?”

“Yacht and jet skiing.”

“Oh, that  _ does _ sound fun.” He takes Harry’s hand in his own. “Can I drive the jet ski?”

“Fat chance.”

Louis bends down and throws a wet clump of sand at him, covering Harry’s entire chest, and the way Harry laughs makes Louis already feel a thousand times better.

 

When Harry said ‘yacht,’ he wasn’t fucking around. This boat is massive. It has a lower deck with a full bedroom and bathroom, a kitchenette, and the top deck is wide and open, a tightly knit net hanging over the open ocean for them to lounge on. It’s serene and Louis is eager to spend the day in the sun, baking and basking with his boy, letting Fiji overwhelm them and nothing else.

The yacht takes off toward the sea, wind already whipping around them, and Louis tugs off his shirt.

“Can you pass me the sunscreen?”

Harry nods. “I’ll do you one better. Turn around.”

He twists his body and lets Harry’s hands glide across his back, smoothing the lotion up and down his shoulders, and Louis’ entire body goes slack. He knows his entire back is covered, but Harry keeps going, massaging and kneading, and he doesn’t tell him to stop, letting his eyes slip shut, loving Harry’s hands on his skin.

Harry pulls his hands away and kisses just below his ear. “All good.”

“Mmm. I’d say.” He reaches for his sunglasses, snapback still on, and gestures over his shoulder. “Wanna?”

Harry nods. “Yeah.”

Neither of them say another word as Louis settles in on it first, and he’s loving how the sunshine feels against his skin, loving how Harry feels against him even better. They both fall asleep like that, Harry’s face pressed against Louis’ neck, legs tangled together, sun and ocean hardly out of reach.

 

They’re both burned and sore by the time they eat lunch, but the water is so gorgeous and Harry looks impossibly good in his bathing suit and Louis doesn’t care about a single thing other than this day, red skin and all.

Louis is standing on the edge of the yacht, his toes curling over, and he looks down. “You sure you wanna jump? We’re kind of far up.”

“Louis, please don’t be a giant wimp on every date we go on. Just jump in the fucking water.”

It’s the first time Harry has attempted a single joke since their day began, or hasn’t acted like he has to walk on eggshells, and Louis is infinitely pleased. He breathes out a sigh of relief, smirking.

“Giant wimp? Hm. Okay.” He smiles sweetly before pushing Harry off of the boat, taken so off guard he doesn’t even make a sound until he surfaces out of the water. Louis peers over the edge, still smiling, and he watches Harry pop up to the surface, stuttering.

“What the hell was that for?!” he shrieks from the water.

“For bugging me.”

“ _ That’s _ your punishment for  _ bugging _ you?!”

Louis puts his hand on his hip. “Yes. Why aren’t you understanding that?”

“Get in here so I can hold you underwater.”

He laughs. “Tempting.”

“Come on, fucking get in.”

“Are you gonna be nice to me if I join you?”

“I don’t know, are  _ you _ gonna be nice to  _ me _ ?”

“Probably not.”

“I like an honest man.” He looks down into the water. “Lou, there are so many fish down here. You have to see it.”

“Alright,  _ alright, _ I’m coming.” He scrunches up his face and doesn’t allow himself to think about it before he steps off the edge, falling through the air, and into the water amongst the fish.

He surfaces after a moment, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes, and Harry’s right next to him, staring. “Can I help you?”

“You look good wet.”

Louis laughs. “You’re such an idiot.”

Harry swims over, kisses him gently on the lips, Louis’ breathing a bit unsteady, and then actually does shove Louis under the waves.

 

They climb onto the jet ski an hour later, Harry sitting up front and patting the seat behind him.

“Climb on, Lou.”

Louis scoffs. “Why the hell do you get to drive?”

“Because I got up here faster.”

“No, I don’t think so. Move back. I want to drive.”

Harry pouts. “Please?”

“Put your ugly lip away. I won’t even be able to  _ see _ over you.”

“That’s true. My little pocket sized date…”

“Ha, okay, you don’t get to sit on at  _ all _ , now, fucker.”

He laughs. “Fine. You can sit up front and drive.”

Louis pulls himself up onto the jet ski. “Good call, H, what a great idea.”

Harry snorts. “Yeah, so glad I thought of it myself.”

For the next 90 minutes, Louis whips them in and out of the waves, Harry holding onto his waist tightly, and every time they go over the wake, Harry slides forward, hips bucking, pushing up against him in all the right spots. This is obviously Harry’s payback for not being allowed to drive, amongst other things, and based on the way he laughs quietly each time Louis curses under his breath, he knows exactly what he’s doing.   
  


* * *

They’re set up on the beach under a cabana, overlooking the sun setting on the ocean’s horizon, filling their mouths with food that Louis didn’t bother asking if it was okay to eat before he dived in. It’s perfect, bordering on too perfect, this dinner date, especially considering the emotional turmoil Louis tapped into the night before. It feels phony, almost, like they’re tiptoeing around their mess, neither acknowledging what or how to clean it up.

Instead of saying anything, Louis finishes off his dinner and climbs into Harry’s lap, forcing him to put down his own food.

“Thank you for a fun day,” he says.

Harry smiles and rubs his hand up and down the length of Louis’ back. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“I did.” He plays the curls at the nape of Harry’s neck. “Kinda don’t want to leave yet.”

He nods. “Impeccable timing.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I have this.” He leans over, reaching behind him to pick up an envelope addressed to both Harry and Louis, keeping Louis still balanced on his lap. “Chris gave this to me earlier.”

Louis rolls his eyes, because as different as it is to  _ be _ on the show, he  _ has _ watched it several hundred times. “Oh, gee, what ever could that be?”

Harry hits him over the head with it. “Just open it and play along.”

“Fine.” He tears open the seal and pulls out the card. “Dear Harry and Louis, should you decide you want to continue this date, camera free, into tomorrow morning, there is a fantasy suite just off the property that has been set up for you to use. If you decide to conclude your date here, your evening will end after dinner and you will separately go back to your individual hotel rooms. The key to the suite is attached, if you choose to use it, and enjoy! Chris Harrison.” He looks up at the sky. “Golly, what could we use this fantasy suite for…”

Harry laughs. “Activities.”

“What kind of activities?”

“I dunno. Arts and crafts, maybe.”

“Anything else?”

“I’ve always wanted to learn how to knit.”

Louis snorts. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

Harry’s smile is lazy, his cheeks flushed from the sun. “Do you want to? Use it?”

He nods. “Yeah. I do.”

“Good. Wanna go see it? I bet it has a big TV.”

“That’s what you care about? A hotel room with a potentially big TV?”

“Louis, it’s probably  _ really _ big.”

Louis stares blankly. “I can’t tell now if you’re talking about your penis or if you’re actually excited about a television set.”

Harry laughs, pushing Louis off of him entirely. “Let’s just go.”

They get up together, Harry blowing out the candles along the rock wall. He grabs Louis’ waist, squeezing his hip, and they head down the path along the infinity pool.

Louis closes his eyes momentarily, so, so tired all of a sudden, which ends up being a grave mistake, because in a matter of seconds, he goes from leaning happily against Harry’s side to the bottom of the pool.

He sputters to the top, wiping his hair out of his eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me, Styles?!”

Harry is standing with his hands on his hips, his smile absurd, and Louis wants to smack it off his face. “Payback for pushing me off the yacht.”

“You were in a bathing suit! I’m fully fucking clothed, you cock!” His t-shirt is stuck to every inch of him, weighing him down into the water. “This is disgusting!”

He’s nearly cackling now. “Doesn’t  _ look _ disgusting, though.” He looks at the camera. “You’re welcome, viewers.”

“Oh my God.”

He sits on the edge of the pool, feet dangling into the water, still laughing. “I would say I’m sorry, but…”

“You’re not.”

“Exactly.”

Louis rolls his eyes and wades through the water to stand between Harry’s legs, placing his hands on Harry’s thighs. “Are we like…”

“Okay?”

He nods. “Yeah. Are we okay.”

Harry covers Louis’ hand with his own. “We have some stuff to sort out, but who doesn’t?”

Louis smiles. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Do you want to? Talk about it?”

“No. We will. Just.” He moves in closer into Harry. “Not right now.”

“Okay, not right now,” Harry echoes. He bends over, just a couple of inches, and cups Louis’ face with his hand. “You’re beautiful.”

“Harry, please.” He blushes and meets Harry the rest of the way, slotting their mouths together, and Harry kisses Louis the only way he knows how, the only way Louis likes.

It’s a good kiss, a really good one, especially considering it’s the first proper kiss they’ve shared since their blow out, but that doesn’t stop Louis from reaching up, tangling his fingers in Harry’s necklace, and tugging him into the pool along side him.

Harry only falters for a minute, smiling against Louis’ mouth. “I should have seen that one coming.”

“Jesus, it’s like you don’t know me at all,” Louis scoffs.

He patiently drags his hands up and down Louis’ sides. “I think I do though.” He kisses him again, a little deeper this time, backing Louis up against the side of the pool.

Louis keeps his hands low on Harry’s waist, pressing his thumbs into his skin every so often, and lets Harry dip him back, kissing him hard and with too much tongue for TV.

They’ve seen worse.

Harry pulls back and kisses along Louis’ jaw. “Lou.”

“Harry,” he croaks out.

He meets Louis’ gaze, unwavering. “Do you want me?”

Louis rolls his eyes and waves his left hand around. “ _ Everyone _ wants you.”

“I don't care what everyone else wants. I care what you want.” His grip on Louis’ biceps tighten. “Do  _ you _ want me.”

He doesn’t feel like playing games anymore. “Yes.”

“Okay.” His eyes have always made Louis a little bit crazy, but right now, he thinks he could swim in them, blazing and attentive. “Let’s go.”

 

There’s nothing soft about the way Harry kisses Louis once they get through the door to the fantasy suite. They’re both soaked to the bone, pool water dripping from their clothes and hair and eyelashes; Louis is shaking from a combination of being cold and from anticipation, and it’s already too good for him to be able to function or form a coherent thought.

The wall behind him is hard and unforgiving, a contrast to how warm Harry is in front of him, mouth unable to leave Louis’. He pushes Louis up against the wall, Louis standing up on his tip toes, calves straining. It’s uncomfortable, and he doesn’t care.

The way Harry works over Louis’ body is like he’s taking out all his frustrations over the past 24 hours - maybe even past three months - out on his body, and Louis is okay with that. He  _ wants _ Harry to do that. Every drag of his lips, imprint from his fingers, grind of his hips is rough, riddled with energy and pent up intensity, and it already has Louis whimpering. They haven’t even made it to their bed yet.

Louis’ too impatient for this, squirming when Harry presses the length of his body up against Louis’ drawing circles with his hips. He pushes Harry back, his head hitting the wall behind him.

“Harry, fuck,” he hisses out, helpless, Harry’s hips still working mercilessly against his own. “This wall sucks, c’mon.”

Harry dips down to kiss his neck, breath hot, ignoring Louis’ request. “You taste so good.”

“I taste like chlorine.”

He can feel Harry’s smile against his skin. “I’m obsessed, whatever it is.”

Louis starts grabbing at the waistband of Harry’s bathing suit, getting pissed when the wetness sticks to Harry’s skin, making it impossible for him to pull it down. He huffs out a frustrated groan. “Don’t be useless,  _ help _ me, get your shorts off.”

“Don’t wanna take my hands off you, though. I can wait,” he murmurs, proving his point by reaching around to squeeze Louis’ ass. Hard.

And he’s weak. Just totally and completely weak, helpless to not give in. It’s been weeks - months, probably - of seeing Harry’s face and body and hearing his stupid fucking voice every time he has his own eyes closed, the first thing he thinks of, always. He’s been in this position with Harry before, but this time, he wants it all.

He pushes back into Harry’s hand, swallowing. “Gonna have to take your clothes off if you’re gonna fuck me.”

Harry’s movements stutter, breathing hitching. “You gonna let me fuck you, baby?”

“Do you want to?”

It’s a ridiculous question, honestly, based on the way Harry can’t stop staring at Louis’ lips and clawing at his back and groaning whenever their hips grind together just right. But he needs to hear it anyway, needs to hear Harry say the words.

His eyes are wide and his breathing is frantic as he surges forward to kiss Louis, covering his entire body. Louis can feel how hard Harry is, big and heavy in front of him, and he knows Harry can feel him, too. It’s heady and he’s almost dizzy with how bad he wants it. Can finally have it.

Harry pulls away. “You’re insane if you think I don’t want it, Christ.” He kisses him again before he pulls back and yanks off his own soaking wet t-shirt. “Wanna get my fingers in you so bad. Wanna see it.”

Louis swallows. “Is that it?”

“You think I’d be able to stop there?” He reaches forward to pull Louis’ t-shirt over his head, getting caught on his ears, Louis shaking free. “Wanna taste you.”

He closes his eyes. “Where?”

“Everywhere.” For emphasis, he grips Louis through his bathing suit, palming him, and Louis curls forward into it. “Wanna be inside you, want to fuck you, make you fall apart, make you come. You want that?”

He whines, reaching up to tangle his hands in Harry’s hair. “Yes, Harry,  _ please _ .”

Harry nods the best that he can with Louis’ hands gripping him so tightly. “Anything, baby. Anything you want.” He leans in to kiss him again, and starts walking backward toward the bed, hands and lips and tongue relentless.

Louis falls onto the bed first, the comforter made of down feathers, and if he wasn’t so turned on, he would  _ seriously _ be thinking about falling asleep immediately. But Harry’s hands are on his waist, yanking his bathing suit off of his body, and the look on his face tells Louis that sleep is the  _ last _ thing he’s thinking about.

“Do you have any idea…” He shakes his head, reaching out to touch Louis’ cock, stiff and hard and already leaking. Louis bucks up into it, groaning low in his throat. “You’re maddening.”

Louis looks up at him, trying to focus on anything other than the way Harry’s hand feels, pulling him off so slowly, he feels like he’s burning. “Is that a compliment?”

“I don’t know.” He takes his hand away in favor of taking off his own bathing suit, his cock just as hard as Louis’. “All I know is you’re one of the most stunning people I’ve ever seen and it’s so fucking hard to concentrate on anything whenever I’m with you.”

“Sounds like I’m more of a burden than anything,” he says, trying to play off how his voice cracks in the middle of his sentence. “Or a distraction.”

“But you’re  _ my _ distraction, and I’m never going to be able to focus on anything else ever again.” He hovers over Louis, straddling him. “I am perfectly okay with that.”

Louis has no idea if anything Harry is saying is true or not, and it’s a possibility it’s just because he has him naked and in his bed. Regardless, he’s blushing at ‘ _ my _ distraction.’ “Harry,” he says, unable to come up with anything else, anything with substance.

“Baby,” he murmurs, kissing his chest, mouthing over the mark that was left behind from the paintball battle. “So gorgeous.”

His chest is heaving, Harry is rocking on top of him, a light sheen of sweat covering his skin, and if he doesn’t do  _ something _ other than just lie here and whine out Harry’s name, he’s going to come like this, without Harry actually fucking him. That won’t do.

He sits up, pushing Harry off of him, and flips the switch, Harry laying down, propped up on his elbows. His lips are parted, his green eyes aren’t blinking, and Louis wants to suck him off, bring him to the edge, wants to prove himself in a way he’s never wanted to before.

He doesn’t say anything before he sinks down, breathing harshly through his nose, making up for what he can’t fit in his mouth with his hand. It’s been awhile since he’s done this, an embarrassing amount of time, but based on the way Harry’s already thrusting his hips upward, breathing uneven and choppy.

Louis keeps his movements sure and steady, his cheeks sucked in, his hand firm, and he doesn’t know how long he’s been working over Harry before he feels Harry’s thumb dragging across his bottom lip, feeling himself go in and out of Louis’ mouth.

“Lou, baby, your mouth is incredible,” he whispers, hips bucking again.

He pulls off all the way, thumbing over the head, Harry jerking in his grip. “You think?” he asks rhetorically, his voice scratchy.

“Unreal. Should have been having sex with you this whole time.”

Louis pinches his thigh with free hand and Harry glares at him. “Not sure that was an actual possibility, love.”

He groans again when Louis bends down and licks a stripe up the length of it. “Baby, you’re so good. I need to…” He pushes Louis off completely, Louis frowning.

“Just not good enough?”

Harry shakes his head, climbing on top of Louis, kissing him fervently. “No,” he says against his lips, “ _ too _ good. Wanna open you up. Wanna get inside you. You want that?”

Louis lets his head fall back against the pillow completely. “Yeah, want that.”

He reaches over to pull open the bedside table’s drawer, rummaging, coming up with a packet of lube and a condom, looking back at Louis. “Is it redundant to say how hot you are?”

He ignores him, eyeing the supplies in his hand. “Did you put those in there or did the network actually do that?”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t want to know.” He swallows. “And yes, it  _ is _ redundant to say how hot you think I am. It’s enough, Styles. You’re turning into an honest to God stalker.”

“My ultimate goal.”

He kisses down Louis’ chest, biting at his stomach, pushing his legs apart, and Louis braces himself for the first finger. He closes his eyes when Harry slides one in, not wanting his every emotion on his face to be horribly obvious, and relaxes as Harry keeps working into him. He fits in a second, then a third, mouthing at Louis’ cock and thighs intermittently, and Louis can’t stop squirming, his stomach clenching and flexing whenever Harry rubs against his prostate. It’s bordering on fucking annoying that he can’t seem to touch anywhere else inside of him, and his cock blurts out more precome. He covers his face with his hands.

“Harry,” he warns, “fucking cut it out.”

“Why, you think you’re ready?”

Louis sits up, Harry’s fingers still inside him, and reaches out to squeeze Harry’s cock, a little too rough and a little too dry. Harry’s fingers falter and he grunts. “I’m ready, and it seems like you are, too.”

“Jesus, okay.” He pulls his fingers out, reaching for the condom, and rolls it over himself quickly. He starts to situate himself over Louis, but Louis kicks him away.

“No. ‘m gonna do it.”

“You’re gonna… Fuck yourself?”

He rolls his eyes. He’s an idiot; Louis is in love with an idiot. His chest hurts and if he thinks about it too much, he thinks he’ll honestly start to tear up. “You’re so stupid.” He situates and readjusts himself, placing his palms on Harry’s chest. “I wanna ride you.”

Harry grips Louis’ shoulders. “Yes, I definitely want you to do that.”

“Glad you’re on board.”

“I’d rather have  _ you _ on board.”

“Oh my  _ God _ , you can go wank somewhere instead, I’m not having sex with you anymore.”

Harry laughs and rubs his hands up and down Louis’ sides. “Please, baby.” He bites down on his bottom lip. “I wanna make you feel good, c’mon Lou.”

Louis nods, straddling Harry’s hips. “Okay. Don’t rush me.”

“I won’t.” He sits up with his back against the headboard, hands still moving across Louis’ body.

He takes a few uneven breaths as he lets the head of Harry’s cock start to press into him, and he twists to turn around and look. And Harry’s big - not the biggest he’s ever taken, but he’s definitely going to have to work up to it - so he starts to sink down slowly, his thighs already burning from exertion.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” he breathes out, turning back to face Harry again, eyes squeezed shut.

He can feel Harry’s breath against his neck, his chest. “Okay?”

He clears his throat, moving his hips. “Yeah. Just. Been a while since I’ve done this.”

“Do you usually bottom?”

Louis forces himself to open his eyes and immediately regrets it. Harry’s staring at him like he’s something he absolutely wants to devour, and Louis’ afraid he might let him. He shakes his head. “Not always. But I want to.”

Harry starts stroking Louis’ cock, jerking him slowly, bringing him back to full hardness. “You already feel so amazing, Lou,” he murmurs. “I’ve wanted you for such a long time.”

He lifts himself up and back down, groaning. “Only known me three months, love, couldn’t have been that long,” he grits out.

“Feels like longer. Ah, fuck, baby, you’re so good, so, so good.”

The sting is starting to wear off and change into something pleasurable, something intense and radiating throughout his entire body, and he digs his nails into Harry’s torso, hanging his head down, moving his hips up and down. “Yeah, feels good.”

Harry leans in and kisses him, hands gripping at Louis’ ass, and Louis’ body seems to be moving on autopilot. Harry’s pressing up in all the right spots inside of him, making him whine high in his throat, and he has to close his eyes when Harry starts whispering into his ear about how sexy he is, how well he’s taking him, how he doesn’t want this to end.

He’s close, he’s tantalizingly close, especially with the way Harry keeps kissing and biting at his collarbones, but he needs a little bit more to tip him over the edge. He slows his movements, rocking back and forth, gasping when Harry grazes his prostate  _ again. _

“Harry…”

Harry meets his gaze, and Christ, Louis can pretend he’s the only one, especially when Harry’s eyes are locked on him like this. In fact, he doesn’t need to pretend. He’s  _ convinced. _

“Baby, ‘m so close,” he whispers, kissing the inside of Louis’ wrist.

Louis nods frantically, panting. “I need… I need you to.”

He seems to get it, even with minimal instruction, and helps Louis slide off, both wincing. “Get on your hands and knees,” he says, voice deeper than usual, and Louis complies, nearly diving into the pillows in front of him.

He’s shaking, hand around his cock, eyes squeezed shut, when Harry starts to push in, smoothly and surely. Harry’s front is pressed to his back, his breath against his shoulder, and it’s inescapable. Louis never wants to try to leave, anyway.

He lets Harry handle his body, manipulating him, squeezing him, borderline using him to get off, and Louis  _ loves _ it, loves the attention, loves the way Harry can’t stop whimpering out his name. And when Harry pulls out all the way, letting the head catch on the rim, he murmurs, “Can’t believe I’m this lucky,” and Louis has to push his face all the way into the mattress to prevent himself from saying something completely stupid.

It only takes a few more perfectly aimed thrusts on Harry’s part for Louis to feel the fire spreading in his abdomen, and Harry can clearly tell he’s close. He drags his hand down the front of Louis’ throat, pressing down lightly, and just the idea of what Harry’s implying, combined with the way he’s relentlessly slamming into him, has Louis coming into his hand, heart ready to beat out of his chest.

He’s already sore - doesn’t realize it until after he’s come down from his high - and it, fortunately, only takes Harry a few more thrusts to come, too, Louis clenching down around him, Harry groaning and his hands squeezing Louis’ ass impossibly tightly.

He can barely lift his head up, can’t even turn over onto his back, after Harry pulls out, so spent, so utterly satisfied. Instead, he reaches out to grab Harry’s hand, Harry lacing their fingers together instantly.

Neither of them talk, even though Louis has so much to say; they catch their breath together, Harry pressing kisses to Louis’ bare shoulder, and after that, everything goes a bit blurry.

 

Louis wakes up around three in the morning for no apparent reason. His entire body aches, a good ache, though, and Harry is sound asleep next to him, curls sweeping across his forehead. Louis can’t not touch, has to, and Harry doesn’t stir, breathing still steady and even.

He slides over across the mattress, pulling Harry’s arm on top of him, rubbing his hand up and down his forearm, playing with the barely there hair. He’s warm, so warm that Louis has to kick off the covers, grunting, and that’s when Harry cracks open his eyes.

“What are you doing.”

“I got bored.”

“You got bored at…” he looks over at the clock on the nightstand. “Three in the morning?”

Louis nods. “Yeah, entertain me.”

“I’d rather entertain the idea of sleep.”

“Boring. Wake up and talk to me.”

Harry sighs, knowing he’s lost. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Umm.” He licks his lips. “Tell me something that you think I’d find interesting, but never said it before because cameras are always around.”

“Your ass is amazing and I’ve wanted to eat you out since day one,” he replies without hesitation.

Louis blushes. “Harold, good God, have some decency.”

He laughs. “Alright, fine.” He tucks Louis’ hair behind his ear, thinking. “One time, I had a dream I was a dolphin trainer, so for four years, I made my mom send me to biology camp. And then I found out that these kind of places are typically fairly abusive to their animals and I cried about it for two months.”

He pats Harry on the back. “That’s cute. Why couldn’t you say that on camera?”

“Because it’s embarrassing.”

“ _ All _ 8-year-olds love the ocean, Harry.”

“I was 18.”

Louis bursts out laughing. “Okay, yeah, that’s embarrassing.”

“Fuck off, your turn, you tell me something.”

“Hm.” He keeps tracing along Harry’s arm, watching goosebumps rise. “I’m allergic to bananas but I still eat them everyday, anyway.”

“What the hell, why would you keep eating them?”

“Because they’re delicious,” he says, like Harry is stupid.

“What happens when you eat them?!”

“Nothing bad, my tongue just kind of hurts.”

“Wow, you’re a dumbass.”

“And  _ that’s _ why I didn’t say it on camera.”

They go back and forth for a while, talking about things they’ve been keeping hidden for the past 12 weeks, eventually diving into deeper territory, like biggest fears, goals, dreams. And they end up talking all night, whispering to one another, and Louis knows now would be a good time to bring up Nathan, about the backstory to his messy freak out, about everything. But Harry is looking at him like he’s the only thing that matters, and Louis can’t bring himself to speak, too afraid to destroy how safe he feels.

He has his neck burrowed into the crook of Harry’s neck, watching Harry trace along the freckles and bruises and marks on his stomach.

“Mmm, what are you doing,” he asks.

“Connecting the dots,” he says. “Feel nice?”

Louis nods. “Yeah, feels nice.”

“It’s like you have constellations on you.”

He looks down. “I guess so.”

Harry’s movements pause briefly, and then he starts laughing. “You’re my Little Dipper.”

Louis punches him on the arm. “That was the  _ ugliest _ thing you have ever said, I’m serious.”

He’s still laughing. “I can’t call you that in public?”

“Not if you want to see the sun rise!”

But then the sun actually does start rising, and before they know it, the crew is knocking at their door, telling Harry to get up and get ready. Louis hangs onto him like a koala, playing dead weight, and Harry laughs. It’s all good, all so deliriously, perfect.

“Seriously, Harry, get up. We have to start getting the room ready for your overnight with Cam.”

Louis thinks his heart just about stops beating, and that’s the phrase he needed to slap himself back to reality, to climb out of bed and yank on his still soaking wet bathing suit. It reeks and he doesn’t care.

Harry can clearly tell he’s bothered by it; he grips his wrists and tugs him into his arms. “I don’t want you to leave,” he mumbles into his hair. He says it so sincerely that Louis believes him, and somehow, that makes it worse.

 

It’s hot out, the breeze making it feel more all the more comfortable, and the waves crashing on the shore are inviting, serene and calming. But Louis ignores all of it and climbs into bed, pulling the covers up to his ears, trying not to focus on the fact that Harry has two more overnight dates this week, which his mind conveniently blocked out. Harry might sleep with them, too. He might kiss and touch and fuck them just like he fucked Louis last night.

Louis squeezes his eyes tight and stays in bed until an hour before the next rose ceremony, screaming at his mind the entire time to shut the hell up.   
  


* * *

Louis and Cam are standing side by side, the sounds of the birds tweeting noisily in the distance, and it’s obvious that Bryce is missing. He has the feeling Harry sent him home during their date, and when Harry and Chris step out together in front of them, the look on their faces are confirmation of Louis’ theory.

Harry clasps his hands together. “Today was a great week, but at the same time, it was also really difficult. Getting to be with each of you and having so much alone time was phenomenal, and I’m really exciting about this upcoming week. But I had to send Bryce home. We both knew it wasn’t right, and I had to be fair, instead of dragging him into another rose ceremony. It wasn’t easy, by any means.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m happy and confident with the two people standing in front of me. With that being said…” He picks up the first rose. “Cameron, will you accept this rose?”

Cam nods and steps forward, Harry attaching the rose to his shirt. They hug and Cam rejoins Louis.

“Louis. Will you accept this rose?”

“Yeah, I will.” He lets Harry put the rose on his jacket, pissed that Lydia made him wear something so heavy in the 4,000 degree weather, and Harry smiles when it’s attached. He takes a flute of champagne off of the tray and hands it to Cam, handing the second one to Louis, keeping the third for himself.

“Later this week, my family is coming to town, and I’m over the moon that you both finally get to meet them.” He holds up his champagne glass. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” Louis and Cam echo, and Louis drains the glass in two sips.

He’s about to meet the family.   
  


* * *

“Louis, if you stare at yourself any longer in the mirror, your reflection is going to start talking back to you.”

He rolls his eyes. “Well, I’m the fairest of them all, and I would  _ like _ the confirmation.”

Lydia smiles. “You look hot, I promise.”

“I don’t want to look  _ hot. _ I want to look like a decent and upstanding citizen. Lyd.” He makes a face. “I’m meeting Harry’s family today.”

“Are you nervous?”

“ _ Nooo, _ I just felt like changing my outfit 37 times in the span of eight minutes.”

“Okay, no need to be snippy, Louis. I’m just asking.”

He frowns. “What if they don’t like me.”

“They’re going to like you.”

“What if they like Cam more?”

She shrugs. “They probably will. His style is effortless.”

“Okay, you massively suck.”

Lydia laughs, squeezing his arm. “I’m teasing. Be yourself. But not too much.”

He pats his hair down, flicking it out of his eyes. “You never fail to give me the best pep talks, you know that?”

“I try.”

“But seriously. Families play such a significant factor in how you might end up feeling about someone. If Harry’s family doesn’t like me…”

“If Harry’s family doesn’t like you, he still will. He makes his own choices, and so far, every choice has led to you.”

Louis twists his fingers together. “Not just me.”

“No, not just you,” she agrees. “But you’re still here because of how  _ Harry _ feels, not because of his family.”

“Fuck. I’m just scared. I feel like Harry and I are a little unsteady, at this point, and, like, should I seriously be this nervous at the very end of this whole thing? Shouldn’t I be feeling more confident?”

“That’s  _ enough _ , Louis. You shouldn’t feel unsteady. Everything is going to go fabulously, just as long as you don’t do anything horrible, you’re going to be fine.”

“So, I shouldn’t, like, punch any of them in the face or anything?”

She pretends to think about it. “You can probably do that, as long as you change your shirt again. Not your best.”

He laughs. “Okay, piss off.”

She pinches his cheek and he bats her hands away. “I’ll see you down at the beach. Have fun today, okay? You only get to meet the family once, and I can tell how important this is to you.”

“It is,” he confirms.

“Enjoy it.”

He nods. “I’ll try.”

 

It’s hot, too hot for the outfit he wanted to wear, and he’s all out of sorts because of it as he makes his way down the beach, shielding the sun with his hand, a bouquet of flowers for Harry’s mum in the other.

He knows Cam met them the day before, and he has no idea how it went, but he can imagine it was nothing but lovely, seeing as Cam is hilarious and polite and beautiful - damnit, Cameron - and he wants to hate him for that, even a little bit.

He can’t, though, and that’s even more annoying than the way his shirt is already sticking to his back and shoulders.

_ Damnit, _ Cameron.

He pushes Cam out of his mind and, instead, focuses on trying not to sweat through his dress shirt, and the sun is so bright, he nearly misses Harry coming up the walkway to meet him, waving and smiling.

“You look incredible,” he says, kissing Louis on the cheek.

Louis wipes the sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand. “Okay, seriously, is it 150 degrees?”

Harry laughs. “Feels like it.”

“Jesus, I think I already have pit stains and your mum and sister’s flowers are wilting and I’m so thirsty and--”

“Lou, relax.” He touches the back of Louis’ hand. “You look gorgeous and the flowers are perfect and my family is already crazy about you because they can tell I am. I promise. You can calm down.”

Louis nods, leaning in to wrap his arms around Harry. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

He smells good, like soap and cologne and something else, something Louis can’t put his finger on. Whatever it is, it’s a familiar, comfortable feeling, and it makes him feel safe. He squeezes Harry tighter before pulling back. “Alright. I’m a bit better now.”

“Okay. Good.” He squints against the sun. “You said you’re thirsty? Let’s get you a drink.”

Louis exhales. “Perfect. Oh, and Harry?”

“Mhm?”

“You look brilliant, too, love.”

Harry smiles, deep rooted and genuine, and Louis can just about  _ feel _ his own body go slack, tension falling away.

 

The crew set up a BBQ outside of the enclosed hut just off of the beach - air conditioned, thank God - and Louis can smell the burgers and hot dogs cooking before he can actually see it.

“Hey, Lydia, can we actually eat this?”

She rolls her eyes. “ _ Yes, _ Louis. We can’t starve Harry’s family.”

“Well, you could…” He trails off as Harry grabs his hand, guiding him down the path to the hut.

“Gemma is really eager to met you.”

“Just Gemma?”

“Nah, the others don’t care, so much.”

“Oh, that’s nice, Harry.”

He laughs. “I’m kidding, but Gemma really is exceptionally excited.”

“Any reason in particular?”

“I told her that you two remind me a lot of each other. Sarcastic and witty and smart and compassionate. She wants to meet her rival.”

“Her rival, huh?”

“Yeah, you two are gonna duel.”

Louis smirks. “I mean, I’m not going to let her win…”

“I didn’t doubt it.”

They reach the hut’s doors and Louis can see his family through the glass, the three of them sitting there, drinking wine, Anne laughing at something Robin is saying. He almost feels intrusive, walking in on their private family moment, but then Harry is pushing him through the door and he doesn’t have much more time to dwell on it.

Anne, Robin, and Gemma all turn to the sound of Harry and Louis entering the room and they stand up immediately, Gemma’s smile warm and Anne’s arms outstretched for a hug before Louis can even shut the door behind him.

“It’s so good to meet you,” she says, arms wrapped tight around him. It reminds Louis of a hug his own mum would give, and he squeezes his eyes shut at that thought.

“You, too,” he replies. “I’ve heard so many incredible things about your entire family. Oh, I have flowers for you.”

“They’re beautiful, thank you, Louis.”

They pull apart, and Louis hands her the flowers, then going in for the handshake with Robin. He turns to Harry’s sister. “Gemma,” he says, eyes narrowed.

She smirks. “Louis.”

“I hear we’re rivals.”

“I hear that, as well.”

“May the best competitor win.”

“You’re on.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I take it back. I don’t want you to meet them. One of you is enough. I don’t need you  _ both _ ganging up on me.”

“Oh, excellent point, Harold.” He looks back to Gemma. “Our combined powers could really ruin his day.”

She bursts out laughing and looks at Harry. “Yup. This one. I pick this one.”

“Yeah, well, he’s mine.”

“Nope, not anymore. Louis, let’s go get food. You like burgers?”

“ _ Love _ burgers.”

“Excellent.”

They head out the door and Gemma is laughing but he can still manage to hear Anne say, “Harry, he’s hilarious. I’ve known him for 15 seconds and I can tell how well you fit together.”

Harry replies, “Yeah, he’s my best friend,” and the way he says it with such confidence and clarity has Louis actively forcing himself to not lay down face first on the grill.

 

All five of them indulge in too much delicious food, Louis piling his plate high with corn on the cob, mashed potatoes, steak  _ plus _ a cheeseburger, and a spoonful or two of fruit salad. It’s all amazing, some of the best food Louis has had in weeks, but he’s barely able to eat any of it, too invested in his conversation with Harry’s family.

They talk about his siblings, his job, his life in London, his life in Chicago, and his favorite part of the journey with Harry so far. They steer clear of his last relationship, though, and Louis assumes Harry said something to them ahead of time.

Louis places his plate of food down on the coffee table in front of him and puts his elbows on his knees. “Well, I can tell you my  _ least _ favorite part of this whole thing so far.” He goes on to explain the bridge climbing excursion, and the way he tells the story has everyone in hysterics, Harry included.

“Okay, you make it sound so much worse than it really was!” he argues.

“Nope, I’m pretty sure it was that bad.”

“The views were  _ amazing _ , Lou. You can’t pretend it wasn’t gorgeous.”

“The only view I remember from that day is the view of the inside of my eyelids.”

“Okay, that’s enough out of you. Eat your couscous.”

“My what?”

Harry points to the pile of mashed potatoes on his plate. “Couscous. Why… What’d you think it was?”

Louis’ eyes go wide, not about to admit that he thought couscous was Goddamn potatoes. “No, I know it’s couscous. Jesus.” He takes a giant bite of it, hating every second of the taste and texture, but to prove a point, swallows and takes another spoonful. “My favorite.”

Harry looks annoyingly amused, as he can clearly tell Louis is lying through his teeth, but keeps playing along, anyway. “Since you like it so much, let me grab your plate and get your some more. There’s a ton left out there.”

Louis grabs Harry’s arm before he has the chance to stand up and whispers into his ear, “You know, it’s not too late to send myself home.”

He smiles, trying to hold back his laughter. “Yeah, as if I’d allow you to leave me at this point. I’m in it to win it, Tomlinson. Finish the rest of your couscous, you dick.”

 

They talk for hours, and it never feels forced, never uncomfortable, and at the end of the evening as Louis sips at his white wine, he’s vaguely aware that this is what Christmas Eve or Thanksgiving could feel like, kids running around and holiday music playing, and he is so, so fucked.

Harry gets up to walk Louis back to his hotel, and Louis makes his way around the room, hugging each family member, telling them all that he truly enjoyed them and can’t wait to see them again - or hopes to, anyway.

Gemma stops him as he leans in for a hug. “No, come with me first.”

He doesn't question it, just follows her onto the terrace outside, looking over his shoulder behind him to look at Harry. Harry shrugs, obviously confused, too.

It’s not as hot now that the sun has gone down completely, but it’s still sticky, and Louis slaps away a mosquito. “What’s up?”

She crosses her arms across her chest. “From what I just saw in there, my brother is absolutely crazy about you.”

Louis’ stomach clenches. “I’d like to think so.”  _ The understatement of the year. _

“I know everyone always says you never want to fuck up a relationship with someone who has a brother, because brothers will threaten to break your bones if you hurt their sibling. But dating someone with a  _ sister _ is significantly worse, and I’ll tell you why.” She stares directly at him, eyes unblinking. “Girls don’t go for the physical threats. No. They go for vengeance. They go for payback. And they are relentless.”

Louis nods, swallowing. “I know. I have five sisters. They’re all horrible.”

She smiles slightly at that. “If you break my brother’s heart, you will be sorry you ever met him, and that’s a guarantee.”

He nods again. “Gemma?”

“What.”

“Thank you for sharing him with me.”

Her demeanor softens at that. “I’m gonna feel like a real jackass if he ends up picking Cameron because I’m admitting this on national TV and everyone’s going to see it but Christ, I hope he picks you.”

Louis laughs. “I hope so, too.”

“Come here.”

He goes in for the hug, patting her twice on the back. “He’s lucky he has you.”

“Funny, he doesn’t seem to feel that way, but I’ll let him know you think so.”

They walk back inside together, Harry talking quietly to Anne, and they both stop talking when Louis and Gemma reappear.

“I’ll walk you out?” Harry says.

Louis shrugs. “Yeah, I guess it’s about that time.”

He says his last round of goodbye’s to Harry’s family before he leads him back outside, walking hand in hand up the stone path back to Louis’ hotel room.

Harry traces his thumb across Louis’ knuckles. “They  _ liked _ you.”

“I liked them, too.”

“No, they  _ really _ liked you. Like, they might try to make you their son, instead.”

He smiles. “Might have to have your mum call my mum first, to see if it’s okay.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

He hums in agreement, content to listen to the waves lapping on the beach, content to let Harry keep drawing nameless patterns across the back of his hand.

Louis clears his throat, nervous. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, if you’re uncomfortable.”

“I won’t be uncomfortable.”

“Okay.” They stop in front of Louis’ hotel room door, Harry waiting patiently. “Did you…” He squeezes his eyes shut. “Did you sleep with either Cam or Bryce on your overnight date?”

Harry smiles. “No, Lou.”

He lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Okay.”

“Is that it?”

“Yeah, for now.”

The way they’re both standing there, staring at each other, reminds Louis so much of a first date, nerves in the pit of his stomach and all. Harry’s looking at him like he wants to say something, expression so, so serious.

“What?”

Harry licks his lips and shakes his head and in the end, doesn’t say anything, just kisses him, hands cupping Louis’ jaw instantly, thumbs brushing his cheekbones.

Louis tries to get every thought and word he has on the tip of his tongue across through the kiss, fingertips digging into Harry’s shoulders, and neither of them have breathed a word in nearly two minutes, but he has the feeling Harry can hear him, anyway.

They break apart at the same time, Louis resting his head on Harry’s chest, listening to his heart beat. Harry drags his hands up and down Louis’ back, spelling out secrets and fears.

Neither of them have said ‘I love you,’ but right now, in this very moment, Louis can feel it; he knows.

 

He sleeps better than he has in a month.   
  


* * *

The day after he meets Harry’s family, Louis is sitting in the interview room, hands clasped together in his lap.

“Tomorrow is the big day. The proposal.” He swallows. “Or not.”

Lydia’s voice comes from behind a camera. “Do you feel better about what happened with you and Harry?”

He shrugs. “Yes and no. We haven’t really addressed it since, and I do want to tell him the entire story, I want him to know. It’s just.” He picks at a loose thread on his shorts. “Not the right time. Basically, I’m a big, fat chicken.” He forces out a fake smile, and he knows it looks more like a grimace than anything. “A lot of things have been unexpected, since being on the show, yeah? I didn’t expect to make a new best friend, and have him here at the finale with me. Knowing that either Cam or myself will end up heartbroken is the shittiest thing I can comprehend, really. I didn’t expect to become this invested this quickly.

“Do you love Harry?”

His eyes well up with tears. “So much. He makes me so crazy.”

“And you haven’t told him yet?”

“No.”

“Do you have a reason for that?”

“I don’t want to look like a fool again, Lydia. The last time I poured my heart out to someone in a situation like this, I found myself single and devastated and betrayed.”

“I think you need to put your pride away, Louis. What if Harry thinks you truly, genuinely don’t love him because you haven’t been able to voice it? Jesus, Lou, this is different.  _ He’s _ different. Harry isn’t your ex.”

Louis nods. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.” He stands up and walks out of view of the camera, but he knows the mics pick it up when he says, “Okay, I need your help with something.”   
  


* * *

The morning of the proposal, Louis’ entire body is wracked with nerves. He can’t think straight, can’t manage to hold down breakfast. Cam has, for sure, told Harry that he loves him. Harry might have even said it back. Who knows.

He’s royally screwed, all because he couldn’t spit out the words  _ I love you _ that have been on the tip of his tongue for weeks.

He dresses slowly, stepping into the dress pants provided by the network, and he can’t believe it’s so fucking hot outside. The camera crew walks in as he starts buttoning up his shirt, already starting to sweat.

“Hey, Lou, you almost ready?” Lydia asks.

He nods. “Yeah, I think so. Do I have to do an interview beforehand?”

“Yup. We’ll try to make it quick. Harry’s already on his way down there.”

Louis swallows. “Alright, let’s do it then. Can’t keep that boy waiting.”

“Don’t forget, you don’t get to keep that suit. Leave it in your hotel room after the proposal.”

“I would ask you if you’re kidding, but at this point, I know better.”

Louis follows Lydia outside and squints in the sunlight. It’s probably an additional 30 degrees hotter in the sun than inside his villa, and he tugs at his tie uncomfortably. He waits as they set up the camera and attach his mic on the inside of his jacket - a ritual he is now  _ way _ too familiar with - and can’t believe how on edge he feels. He blows his hair out of his eyes, even though it’s styled up into a quiff. Nervous habit, and all that.

“Louis,” Lydia begins, clipboard in hand as usual, “how’d you wake up feeling this morning? Complete sentences.”

He waves his hand around; he knows the drill. “I woke up this morning feeling extremely anxious. I have a lot of things I want to say to him but.” He shrugs. “Some things need to be private, and that’s hard to come by when you’re being filmed about 90% of the day.” He rolls his neck, muscles stiff with tension. “He doesn’t know I love him. I told everyone else before I told him, because I’m sick with pride and couldn’t get my head out of my ass long enough to tell him. And that’s. That’s a huge problem. I’m going into this with a lot of doubt in my mind, and I’m sure Harry feels the same way. Shit, I hope he doesn’t.” He clears his throat and looks down at the ground. The dirt is damp, even though it’s dry as hell out here. When did the crew actually manage to spray down the lot? Jesus Christ. “To be clear, I don’t have doubt about how I feel; rather, I have doubt that Harry doesn’t  _ know _ . And that this is all ending. The idea of him telling me he doesn’t want me and he’s going to propose to Cam instead makes me want to drown myself in the ocean.”

The camera guy stops the camera. “Perfect, man. We’re all set.”

He nods and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Can we go get this over with?”

Lydia laughs. “Much faith you have.”

“Oh,  _ so _ much.”

“Follow me; the van will take you down to Harry.”

Deep breaths. “Okay.”

The ride is probably no more than five minutes, but it’s long enough for Louis to think about jumping out onto the open highway four times, long enough for him to feel carsick, and when the van rolls to a stop, Louis is about one second away from demanding a bucket to vomit into.

He walks down the path slowly, trying not to kick up dirt as to not mess up his suit, and he avoids his gaze with the camera man walking just in front of him. He expects there are many more down at the scene, though, and he braces himself for it.

The first thing Louis notices about the final location is how  _ intimate _ it is. There aren’t nearly as many crew members as he thought there would be, and though the ones that  _ are _ there are all filming him, capturing his reaction and taking shots of the scene itself, it feels less invasive than it has in the prior weeks of relentless and constant recording. For some reason, the fact that this feels more private makes him more anxious.

The second thing he notices is Harry, standing several yards away in the center of a gazebo overlooking the ocean. He hasn’t seen them since after their visit with Harry’s family, and the nerves in his stomach kick up violently. If he doesn’t focus, he honestly might stop breathing completely. And then their eyes lock and Harry smiles. It helps for a moment. But Louis knows him well enough to know that his smile is a nervous one, and it makes Louis feel simultaneously better and worse; better because they’re in the same boat, worse because Harry might be nervous for different reasons than Louis is.

He slowly makes his way over to the gazebo, his knees shaking and threatening to give out completely, and he’s aware that he sounds out of breath, just from a bit of walking. He has never been this tense and anxious. Ever. Not when he moved from London to Chicago, not when he was involved in that bloody car accident his first year of driving, not when he found out he’d been cheated on for an entire year.

Nothing compares to this, and he wants it all so badly, he could start crying.

He inhales and exhales and steps up onto the gazebo, breath hitching in his throat when he finally gets a good, long look at Harry. He looks positively breathtaking. His three-piece suit fits him like a glove, his hair is loose and swept out of his face, and the already present tears in his eyes make the green of his irises even bolder. He needs to tell Harry how beautiful he is, inside and out, and he feels lucky to know him, even if this is where their story ends.

Fuck, this better not be where their story ends, but it might be too late, and Louis feels like there are rocks settling in the pit of his stomach.

Harry reaches for Louis’ hands and brushes his thumb along his knuckles. “Hi,” he murmurs.

Louis smiles and looks down. “Hi, back.”

“You look stunning.”

“You’re one to talk. I can’t even look directly at you. It’s like looking into the sun.”

Harry laughs, his grip tightening around Louis’ hands. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

The look on Harry’s face is one that Louis wants to keep safe forever. “No. I don’t,” he replies, much more solemnly. His hands are trembling, still locked with Louis’. “Okay. I’m. Okay. I need to start talking before I explode.”

Louis nods. “Go ahead, love.”

Harry’s eyes well up again. “I have always been a happy person. I’ve never had many complaints. My family is incredible, my friends are amazing, my job is so rewarding… But I’d never had a real  _ love, _ you know? I’d never been with someone who could turn my brain into mush, as well as be my best friend. And then last year, I found that. Or at least, I thought I did.” He pauses, his tears spilling over. “God, this is scary. All of this is so scary.”

Louis squeezes Harry’s hands. “Take your time, H. You’re doing so well.”

Harry nods, taking a steadying breath. “It was really hard to move on from that. Like, that was my first time ever being in love. I was so skeptical to do this show all over again, because I left with a broken heart the first time, and I didn’t want to repeat it. I was so scared. But then I found someone who made me feel so safe, so secure, and any anxieties I had before were just… Gone. I jumped head first into this and never looked back.

“I don’t know in depth about your past relationships, but I’d never been with anyone who makes me excited to wake up in the morning just so I can get to them sooner. I’d never been with someone who seems to understand me from a single look. I’d never been with someone who drives me up a Goddamn wall, but at the same time, I want to push them up against that stupid wall and kiss them senseless.”

Louis lets out a watery laugh. “Not sure you should say that on TV.”

“What, I can’t  _ say _ it but I can actually  _ do _ it?”

He laughs again. “You have a point.”

Harry swallows, gaze steady. “Have you ever been with someone like that before?”

Louis looks up, locking eyes. “Once. I did, one time.”  _ But it doesn’t even compare to this, and I’m not sure how that’s possible. _

He nods. “Then you know how it feels.”

“I really do.”

“Louis.” He takes a step closer and he’s  _ really _ crying now. “I am the luckiest person on this planet because I found someone who surpassed every single dream I’ve ever had. It’s like… I called my mom during week five and I said, ‘It’s like this guy was created specifically to be with me.’ My missing piece, she called it. And that’s all I’ve been able to think about ever since. I found my missing piece.”

Louis’ almost positive he’s sweating through his suit. “Harry, I have so much I want to say to you…”

“Wait, let me finish. I’m almost done.”

He licks his lips; his throat is suddenly extremely dry. “Okay.”

“I fell in love on this show twice, but the second time is the only time that matters. I am so in this, so invested, and 12 weeks ago, I met the man I know I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. I never doubted that he was the one, not even for a second.”

Louis holds his breath; he might pass out. “Not for a second?”

“No.” Harry’s entire body is wracked with tremors, his voice weak when he says, “Unfortunately, I found that with someone else.”

All Louis can hear is static, white noise. He tries to let go of Harry’s hands, can’t believe this is happening.  _ Again _ . It’s a fucking nightmare, this moment, and he doesn’t sound like himself when he forces himself to speak. “What?”

Harry’s face is blotchy, tears streaking down his cheeks, and then the bastard fucking  _ smiles. _ “And that’s what I told Cam yesterday when we both decided it would be best if he went home.” His voice cracks on the last word, and he cups Louis’ jaw in his hands. “I’ve been so set in my decision for so long that I knew it wouldn’t be fair to keep him here until the very last moment. I couldn’t do that to him. So, I sat down with him and I told him everything, about how in love with you I am, and he didn’t even hesitate when he said, ‘I know. I was waiting for this conversation because it’s so obvious that you two are meant to be together.’  _ Louis _ .”

Louis is torn between mounting him right then and there or punching him directly in the throat. “That was the meanest thing you’ve ever done.”

Harry lets his hands slide from Louis’ face, down to his shoulders, to his chest. He keeps them there, gripping at his lapels. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re not, though,” he croaks.

He smiles again, still clutching at Louis’ chest. “Lou. If we hadn’t met on this show, I know I’d be looking for you somewhere else. I think I’ve been searching for you my entire life. I just didn’t know it until I met you. My mom was right. You’re my missing piece.” He lets his hands drop from Louis’ body entirely. “And then when she met you… She said there was no comparison. Louis. You’re it. I want to keep you safe forever.”

Louis whines high in his throat. “Are you sure?”

“Am I sure?” Harry’s bottom lip quivers. “I knew how Cam felt about me. I knew that Cam was fully in this, that he loved me. He told me so many times. And you  _ never _ have. But.” He’s crying harder, now, and so is Louis. “I’m still choosing you, Lou. That’s how confident I am that we’re supposed to be together, even without you ever verbalizing how you feel, if you’re in love with me. Just the  _ idea _ of you telling me that you love me makes me feel a thousand times crazier than actually hearing someone else say it out loud. That’s how I know, that’s how I’m sure. I’m banking on a future with you, one that isn’t certain, because I can feel it whenever we’re together. I know I’m not insane.” He runs his fingers through his curls, getting them tangled at the ends. “I’m a logical guy. I use my brain, I don’t rely on fate or signs to make decisions. I’ve never used the term soulmate because I don’t think that’s real. But all of a sudden, I’ve turned into the world’s biggest sap. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: you make me  _ crazy. _ ”

Louis vaguely remembers saying something very similar in one of his interviews, not very long ago. He nods in response, lump in his throat, because he  _ definitely _ understands.

“You have to choose me back, though. I can’t be in this alone.”

He searches Harry’s face for any sign that he’s joking. He isn’t. And Louis is dumbfounded that Harry has been just as uneasy as Louis has been, that he hasn’t been as transparent as he thought. “Do you really think I would ever be stupid enough to walk away from this? Do you have any idea how in love with you I am?”

Harry closes his eyes briefly and smiles, reaching out for Louis’ hands. “Can you say it again, please?”

Louis shakes Harry’s hands away, wrapping his arms around his neck, instead. “I love you. I love you. You drive me mad and you have the world’s most unattainable hair and you pour the milk into the bowl before the cereal and I’m working on how I can live with that and nothing else really matters and  _ I love you. _ ” He buries his head against Harry’s chest, murmuring it one more time when he can hear how loudly Harry’s heart is beating.

“Lou.” He gently nudges Louis away, reaching into the pocket on the inside of his jacket. He pulls out a small box and Louis has to hold onto Harry’s elbow to steady himself. “Nothing makes more sense than when I’m with you. You are everything I’ve ever wanted, and more, and you inspire me to be a better version of myself. I’m the luckiest. I really am.”

He starts to sink to one knee, and Louis holds out his hands. “Wait.”

Harry pauses. “Why. What are you doing.”

Louis’ entire body is shaking as he reaches into his own pocket, pulling out a similar looking box. He looks up at Harry, barely able to see him through his blurred vision. “H…”

“Louis, what are you doing,” he repeats, voice trembling. “I’m supposed to be the one to do this.”

He nods. “I know. Just. I don’t play by the rules.”

Harry chokes back a sob. “I think I’ve heard that before.”

“Yeah, I think so, too.” He lowers himself down onto his left knee, and he can’t open the fucking box. He laughs in frustration, trying to get rid of the tremors.

Harry kneels down in front of him. “Here, give me the box. I’ll open it.”

“Worst proposal ever,” Louis says, handing over the box.

“I wholeheartedly disagree.” He peers inside. “Jesus, Louis, this is stunning.”

Louis nods. “I think I looked at rings for four hours. The jeweler hates me.” He laughs nervously, touching his quiff, making sure it isn’t a complete mess. “I think there’s doubt in every relationship, yeah? I wanted to trust you, to trust us, but in a situation like ours, one that’s so messy and complicated and unusual, it’s impossible to  _ not _ have doubts.”

Harry nods. “I understand that.”

“But I know you’re crazy about me,” he continues. “I’m obsessed with you, too. Obviously.” He tries to wink, but he’s pretty sure it comes out more like a twitch, and Harry laughs. “I’m not letting you propose to me because I wanted to be the one to do it. I wanted to to show you that I’m in love with you, that I’m not doubting us anymore. I am confident in how I feel about you, in how you feel about me, in our future together, regardless of how long I’ve been biting my tongue, afraid to tell you before. And regardless of whether or not you told me you loved me, I was going to propose. I had to. I had to make sure you fucking knew.”

Harry is breathing heavily, shoulders shaking. “I love you, too,” he answers simply.

His heart honestly might stop beating entirely. “We’ve been on a lot of journeys together so far, but the best one is yet to come, and I can’t believe I get to go on it with you,” he says, shaking his head. “I want our journey to continue in San Francisco. I know I freaked out before, and totally lost my mind, but I want to move. I want to make my home with you there. I’ve been thinking about it nonstop since you first brought it up, and in my mind and my heart, I know it’s what we need to do.”

He sniffles. “You don’t have to do that, Lou, you really don’t. We can talk about it some more.”

“No. I don’t have to move. But I  _ want _ to. As long as you’ll have me there.”

He nods frantically, smiling. “Yes, God, I’ll have you.”

Louis laughs. “It’ll be exciting. Like you said, I’ve done it before. And look how it turned out. It was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Why wouldn’t I want to do something like that again? And this time, with  _ you _ ?” He grabs Harry’s hand before he can completely chicken out, his voice a tiny whisper when he asks, “Harry. Will you marry me?” His eyes dart across Harry’s face, and can’t believe he’s still  _ this _ fucking nervous.

Harry nods, can’t even get the words out, just kneels there and cries; in fact,  _ both _ of them are. Louis’ face is nearly dripping in sweat, his head hurt from crying, and he’s vaguely aware that there’s a camera extremely close to his face, but then Harry’s mouth is on his and it’s sloppy and too much teeth and it’s fucking perfect and he doesn’t care about anything else other than  _ Harry. _

Harry pulls back and slips the ring onto his finger and when he whispers into his ear how much he loves him, Louis can’t do anything other than hold on tightly and whisper his own words back, voice weak and cheeks damp and so, so happy.

It’s the messiest proposal ever, snot and tears and Louis’ pretty sure his knee is bleeding from kneeling on a rock on the ground, but it’s better than anything he could have come up with in his own head and Jesus Christ,  _ he’s _ the luckiest.

 

That evening, they sit and watch a display of fireworks, apparently in their honor, courtesy of the network, and halfway through it, Louis nudges Harry.

“This is the cheesiest shit I’ve ever seen.”

“It was either that or a hot air balloon ride at sunset.”

Louis’ eyes go wide. “Yeah, good choice.”

Harry laughs. “I thought so, too.” He pulls Louis closer up against his side. “You know how I said we had to choose each other, and that it’s not a one way street?”

He nods. “Mhm.”

A particularly loud  _ boom _ from a firework goes off, making them both jump. Harry clears his throat. “Am I allowed to ask you if you’ll choose me back?”

Louis rolls his eyes but he’s fucking tearing up. When the hell did he get so soft? “Are you proposing to me after I already proposed to you?” He gestures up at the sky. “Under a Goddamn firework display?”

Harry smiles. “Yes. I am. Got a ring and everything.”

“Well, I should hope so. Otherwise, what were you planning on doing when you got down on one knee this morning, if you were empty handed?”

He laughs. “Louis, c’mon!”

Louis laughs, too. “Yes, I’ll marry you back.”

“Good answer.” Harry pulls the ring out of his pocket, and it’s not something Louis would have ever chosen for himself, and it’s  _ better _ . “Hey.” He kisses the back of Louis’ hand. “I love you.”

Louis sighs happily, letting Harry slip the ring on his finger. “Hey. I love you, too.”

 

They don’t have to leave Fiji until tomorrow morning, and Louis knows he should get some sleep; the flight will be long and he’s drained from the day’s activities. But if there’s the opportunity to have newly engaged sex with his fianc é, he’s going to take it.

It’s so different than the last time they were together. It’s slow, it’s deliberate, it’s drawn out, and Louis’ body is screaming from how good it is. Harry opens him up slowly, kissing him over and over again, Louis not bothering to stifle his moans. It’s been an overwhelming day, and his body is riddled with energy, desperate for anything Harry will give him.

He rocks into Louis slowly, hovering over him, brushing his hair out of his eyes, and he hasn’t looked away from Louis’ face once. Louis’ thighs keep shaking, breath hitching, and he rakes his fingers down Harry’s chest, loving the way the marks scream  _ his. _

“Louis,” Harry murmurs, “baby, I love you.”

Louis wants to kick him in the face for that. “I’m close, I don’t wanna come yet.”

Harry smirks and drives his hips in deeper. “I can’t even stand how much I love you.”

“Stop it.”

“I’m gonna marry you. I’m so fucking lucky that I get to keep you.” Harry groans when Louis clenches down. “So beautiful, baby, so gorgeous.”

“Shut  _ up. _ ” He tries to think about anything else than Harry’s dumb fucking voice and his stupid words but he’s inching closer and closer towards his orgasm, and he’s having trouble warding it off any longer.

Harry breathes out deeply through his nose. “It’s such a sense of calmness with you, Louis,” he continues. “All I feel is peace knowing you’re mine and I’m yours.”

“Harry…” he warns.

“Come on, come for me. Do it.” He reaches up and locks their hands together, and Louis can feel the metal from Harry’s ring against his own skin.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” he hisses out, coming all over his stomach, holding onto Harry as tightly as he can.

“That’s it, baby,” Harry says, his voice hushed, and he picks up the pace, coming less than a minute later with Louis’ name on his lips.

Later, when they’re wrapped up within each other later, long after their sweat has cooled and they’ve eaten all the snacks in the mini fridge, Harry cranks the AC and jumps into the bed, pulling the comforter up to their necks.

Louis sighs. “You could just, like,  _ not _ turn the AC up so high.”

“Well, that’s just a terrible idea.”

“Oh, right, how stupid of me.” He twists  his engagement ring under the blanket, already used to the feeling of the metal against his finger. “We did it, H.”

Harry’s eyes are already closed, but he smiles. “That we did.”

 

The next morning, they wake up early to catch their flight, and Harry looks over as Louis loads his last items into his suitcase.

“What are you folding?”

Louis looks down at the suit he wore at the proposal. “My suit?”

“ _ Your _ suit?”

“Yeah, it is now.” He tosses it into the bag, zipping it up. “Alright, let’s make moves, Styles.”

 

What Lydia doesn’t know won’t hurt her.   
  


* * *

They fly to San Francisco separately, as to not give away the final results of the show in case anyone sees or recognizes them, and when Louis touches down late that Thursday night with a suitcase full of clothes in one hand and his cat’s carrier in the other, it doesn’t feel like he’s just left his home. Rather, he feels like he’s  _ coming _ home.

The first week after they’re done airing is the least stressful, happiest seven days in Louis’ recent memory. They get to do  _ normal _ couple things, like record movies that they fall asleep watching, fuck in the shower, squabble over who gets the left side of the bed, because apparently, they both want that side.

“But you slept on the right side in Fiji!” Louis argues.

“Yeah, because I was being  _ nice. _ I wasn’t gonna be like, ‘Oh, Lou, thanks for the ride, now roll over.’”

He puts his hands on his hips. “Okay, well, be nice again. Take the right side, or you can sleep on the couch.”

“It’s a little early on in this for that threat, don’t you think?”

Louis narrows his eyes. “No, I do not.”

Harry stomps his feet, making Louis laugh. “Is it  _ really _ that important to you that you get the left side?”

“Harry, I moved across the  _ country _ for you. The least you can do is move across the  _ bed. _ ”

“Ugh.” He groans, closing his eyes. “Okay, fine, but you only get to use that excuse once a week.”

“Deal.”

 

Yes, the first week is great, but week two is less magical, once Louis realizes Harry wasn’t kidding when he says they can’t leave his house until after the finale airs.

“Wait, so I’m, like, a prisoner in my own home?!”

“Jeez, comparing our love nest to jail?”

“Ew, don’t try to be cute with me, Styles. We can’t  _ leave _ ! I’m gonna go fucking mental!”

“Oh, this is what you consider yourself to be like sane? Is it too late to call up Cam?”

Louis sneers. “ _ Funny. _ ”

Harry laughs. “Baby, we can leave the house. Just. Not together.”

“And where’s the fun in that?!” he shrieks. “I want to parade around my new city with my smoking hot fianc é ! Not hole up in his ex-bachelor pad!”

“You think I’m smoking hot?” he asks, waggling his brows.

“Don’t be so full of yourself, you dick,” he says, but Harry is laughing, and now Louis is, too, and he doesn’t know how he ends up naked on the couch with Harry on top of him and kissing every inch of him that he can reach while whispering how much he loves him, but Louis is fine with it.  _ Very _ fine with it.

He’s definitely had worse days.   
  


* * *

Week Three - when will he stop measuring time in number of weeks? - into his move to California,  _ The Bachelor _ starts airing. And Louis thought it would be painfully awkward watching himself on TV, and in some instances, it is, but overall, it’s worse off for Harry than anything, and Louis  _ lives _ for the way Harry blushes whenever he says something that was obviously scripted by the staff, clearly very out of character.

It turns into a Monday night ritual: Harry comes home from work, Louis puts away his laptop in his temporary home office, they order Chinese food or pizza or burgers from down the block, and together, they dig in and watch what Harry affectionately and disgustingly calls their “love documentary.” The first time he said it, Louis laughed so hard, lo mein almost came out of his nose, appropriately grossed out by the phrase, so, of course, Harry has continued to call it that ever since.

The best part of watching it all play backward is being able to see each other’s interviews, as well as all the other contestants’. The guys at the beginning  _ clearly _ do not like Louis, and they all make it very obvious. For about two weeks, the majority of their interviews start and end with “Louis fucking sucks.” And for the most part, it doesn’t bother Louis, because he knows their words are out of jealousy, or because they felt threatened. But then Michael comes out with, “He just doesn’t ever seem like he wants to be here. He doesn’t deserve to stay. He doesn’t deserve  _ Harry. _ He needs to be sent home.”

Louis scrunches up his face at that. “Did you ever feel that way? Like I acted above everyone else?”

Harry shakes his head. “God, no. You acted  _ comfortable _ , like you weren’t putting up a front. I’ve already told you how much I admired that.”

“Yeah. Alright.” He rests his head on Harry’s shoulder. “I really fucking hate Michael.”

Harry laughs. “Yeah, I’m glad I sent him packing.”

“Me, too. What a twat.”

The scene changes to Cameron in the interview chair, half smiling. “Ah, I dunno. Everyone in the house seems to be bothered by Louis. I don’t really see how. He’s not phony like everyone else, and I appreciate that. And he’s a smart ass. Nothing wrong with that. But don’t tell the others. I don’t want a target on my back, too.”

Louis looks down at his hands. “Good lad, that Cameron.”

Harry nods. “Mhm. Smart, too. He saw what I saw.”

A week later on the following Monday, Louis is blushing as he watches himself panicstricken over getting on the gondola in Vail, Harry totally amused that he’s so squirmy, and then Casey appears on the screen.

“He’s totally faking his fear of heights to get close to Harry. At first I was pissed, but then I was like, wow. That’s fucking genius.”

Louis’ laugh is a little shrill when he yells at the screen, “Fuck you, Casey! Your dick is small!”

Harry snorts. “Mature, Louis. He said you were genius, at least.”

“He also said I’m a  _ liar _ .”

“A brilliant one, though.”

“Alright, stop talking, you’re not helping.” The scene changes to Harry in the interview room, rubbing his hands together.

“After the mountain group date, I realized my sole focus was on Louis. And understandably so. He’s incredible. But, it’s so early on to be so attentive to just one person, you know? I have to pull back a bit and split my attention. I can’t make this the Louis show.” He smirks. “Or, at least, I’m trying not to.”

Louis slaps Harry’s leg. “Jesus, Styles, reel it in.”

He laughs. “ _ Baby, _ I was already so crazy about you. That  _ was _ me reeling it in.”

“Jesus,” he repeats, cheeks hot.

 

They’re watching Harry on his date with Jonathan at an ice rink somewhere in LA, and Louis puts his plate of fries down, scooting in closer to Harry. He crosses his legs and drapes them over Harry’s lap, his worn, cotton sweatpants bunching up at the ankles, and Harry reaches down to trace along his ankle bone.

He looks up at Harry, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “It’s really weird that we’re sitting here, I think.”

Harry squeezes his ankle. “I know, baby, we made it.”

“And now we’re watching you  _ cheat _ on me, essentially.”

He laughs. “Do you want to turn it off?”

“No. It’s all good. I know I’m the one you go home with.”

Harry leans down to kiss Louis’ jaw. “We  _ live _ together.”

“Did you just realize this?”

He can feel Harry smirk against his neck. “ _ No, _ just. We  _ always _ get to come home to each other. It’s nice. I’ve never had this before. I love it.”

Louis nods. “I’ve had it before.”

“How am I comparing?”

“How are you comparing to my lying, scumbag ex-boyfriend?” He shrugs. “Eh. It’s a tie, so far.”

“Lovely.”

He smirks, and buries his head into Harry’s shoulder. “It’s, like, I thought I knew what it felt like to come home to the love of my life, but I now realize just how very fucking stupid that was, because he was waiting for me here in California and I’d never actually come home to him before.” He looks up at the TV right as Harry is kissing Jonathan. “Okay, yeah, we can turn this off, now.”

Harry kisses the top of Louis’ head, laughing, and grabs the remote. “Thank you for letting me pick you,” he murmurs.

“Thank you for doing all my laundry.”

“Even trade, it seems.”

Louis sits up to kiss Harry properly, and it’s too heated considering they’re in the middle of a conversation, but Harry curls into it, anyway. “Yeah,” he mumbles against Harry’s lips before kissing him again, “even trade.”   
  


* * *

At some point, turning off the TV doesn’t work anymore.

Louis knows that on that blank screen, every Monday night at eight, Harry is falling for multiple guys, kissing them and touching them, and he knows he’s included on that list, but the fact that there’s even a  _ list _ is what’s getting to him.

“I’m not strong enough for this,” he says into the phone late one night. “Like, this is so, so shitty.”

Zayn scoffs. “What did you expect, Lou? You knew he was actively dating the others guys, too. This is the third time we’ve had this conversation this week, and it’s one in the morning here. Can I go now?”

“Yeah, but there’s a difference between  _ knowing _ and actually  _ seeing _ ,” he says, ignoring Zayn’s request _. _ “Why did you allow this to happen. You’re not going to be the best man at my wedding anymore.”

“Yes I am.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yes. I am. And guess what.”

“No, piss off.”

“I’m gonna be your best man at your wedding with  _ Harry. _ ”

Louis scratches his stomach. “What’s your point.”

“My  _ point, _ Captain Oblivious, is that you’re marrying Harry. None of those others guys matter, because it was  _ you _ in the end.”

“Oh.” He looks over his shoulder and peers down the dark hallway where he knows his fianc é is sound asleep, probably snoring, maybe even drooling a little bit. He smiles. “Fuck, I hate you when you’re right.”

“So, you always hate me?”

“Oh my God, goodbye.” He hangs up before Zayn can get another word in, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. Sleep sounds good. Sleep with Harry sounds better.

He pads into the bedroom, creaking the door closed so Harry doesn’t wake up, and places his phone on the nightstand as he slides underneath the covers, pulling them up to his chin.

His lets himself settle deeper into the mattress, pillow already warm and eyes already slipping shut, and Harry rolls, wrapping his arm around Louis on instinct, holding him close, holding him tight.

Louis breathes Harry’s shampoo in for about five seconds before he reaches for his phone. The brightness makes him squint in the darkness of the bedroom as he types.

_ Thank you, Z. _

It buzzes in his hand moments later.

_ I’m so happy for you. Now go to sleep and leave me alone. _

He does.   
  


* * *

They’re down to the final episode of the season, and Louis knows tonight is the episode of his screaming match with Harry, of his breakdown on the beach with Lydia, and he still hasn’t told Harry about why their fight escalated so quickly, still doesn’t even know about the mess that occurred after he stormed out of his own hotel room. Every time he tries to get the words out, he freezes, choking on his own thoughts. And Harry hasn’t asked, hasn’t pried. But now, Harry is sitting on the couch with his feet wedged between the cushions, beer in hand, about to find out at the same time as the rest of the country.

He’s extremely on edge, about ready to fly out of his seat, could scream at any minute.

They watch about half of the episode together, Louis fidgeting and looking at the time on his phone every 20 seconds, and when Chris Harrison’s voice comes through the speakers, saying, “Coming up,” Louis all but jumps off the couch, yanking at his sweatshirt, suddenly way too tight around his neck.

Harry looks up. “You okay?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. I’m gonna go for a walk.”

He furrows his brows. “Now?”

“Yeah. Need to, like, walk.”

“So you’ve said…”

“Do you need anything? At the store?”

“No… Louis, what are you doing?”

“I’m just gonna walk to the store and come back, okay? No big deal.”  _ I just can’t fucking watch this. _

“Right,” he says slowly. “No big deal.”

Louis slips on a pair of Adidas sandals, socks still on, and heads out the door, not bothering to lock it behind him.

 

He walks for a while, long enough that he’s sure the episode is over and that he doesn’t feel like he’s going to vomit anymore. The streetlights along the sidewalk are dim, and he keeps tripping over cracks in the pavement, unable to see them. He doesn’t want to walk anymore. He just wants to be in his home.

He pushes open the front door, kicking off his sandals, and Harry is in the exact same spot, same position, as when Louis left nearly two hours ago. He turns when he hears Louis make his way into the living room.

“What did you get at the store?”

Louis clears his throat. “I didn’t see anything I liked.”

“You didn’t see one thing you liked at the grocery store?”

He shrugs. “They were out of everything.”

Harry sighs. “Baby, why didn’t you  _ tell _ me?”

He’s already tearing up, fuck. “I didn’t want to have that conversation with you on camera.”

“But screaming it at Lydia on the beach was a better alternative. Oh, and it was still recorded, obviously.”

He puts up his hand. “Harry, I don’t want your sarcasm, okay? Just. I don’t.”

Harry nods. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting  _ any _ of that, is all.”

Long pause. “Yeah.”

“Can you come here, at least? Sit down? Pretend you’re not ready to jump out of your skin?”

He huffs out a laugh at that, because it’s true, and Harry’s always calling him out on shit like that. “Okay, I’ll sit down.” He joins Harry in his usual spot, crossing his legs, and when he looks at Harry’s face, his stomach sinks when he sees tear tracks. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get the words out before.”

“I just wish I had known? Like, it would have made so much more sense, Lou. I spent weeks, months, even, wondering why all of that had freaked you out so bad. And in a three minute clip, it all clicked. I shouldn’t have to learn about and understand my future husband through a TV show. I should be able to hear it from  _ him _ .”

Louis nods. “I know. You’re right.”

He reaches out and grabs Louis hand. “Can you tell me more about Nathan, please? The whole story? All I know is what you told me on our first date, which was barely anything, and what I just learned on there,” he says, nodding toward the TV.

“Okay, let me start off by saying it’s not personal, Harry. If this was under normal circumstances and we met at a bar or on a blind date or at a baseball game--”

“What the hell would  _ you _ be doing at a baseball game?”

“--I most likely - you can shut up - wouldn’t have told you about any of this already, yeah? It just so happens that I was triggered in, like, the worst scenario possible and now I’m humiliated but I’m gonna tell you anyway because I hate that pitiful look on your face.”

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

“Weak argument, Styles. I want to tell you now. And you deserve to hear it. To learn what you’re now stuck with for eternity.”

Harry smiles and squeezes Louis’ hand, encouraging. “Okay, Lou. Tell me.”

“But I want you to know first, before I start, that since I met you, my feelings for you have never wavered, okay? Like. You’re it for me. None of this Nathan stuff really mattered, until it did. But it doesn’t anymore, and nobody or anything has any affect on how I feel about us. Anything that’s in my past will remain there.  _ You _ are my present and my future. And that’s it.”

He swallows audibly. “I love you.”

Louis blushes. “I love you, too, now shh. My turn.”

He tells Harry all about Nathan, about how unprepared he was to find out he’d been unfaithful for so long, and that it wasn’t just a casual fling. He talks about the overwhelming feeling of grief when he realized Nathan was in  _ love _ with this guy, in love with both of them, actually, and he didn’t know how to sort it out, how to make sense of it all.

Louis clutches the pillow next to him. “I was so stupid, yeah? Like, I was in denial, not accepting the fact that not only had he been unfaithful, but he’d been in a real relationship with someone else for a long, long time. It stung so much, so I basically pretended it hadn’t happened. I told him that we could move forward, and we could be together, as long as he chose me in the end.” He stops to collect his thoughts. “I remember standing in front of him, forcing myself to smile when I told him to pick me, all the while screaming inside my own head, ‘I shouldn’t be  _ asking _ you to pick me, you should  _ want _ to.’” He runs his fingers through his hair. “Jesus, I never expected him to say no, either, and then I felt like an idiot for merely suggesting he stay and work on things. Like, I looked pathetic. I begged my cheating boyfriend to stay and the whole time, he wanted to leave.”

Harry scoots closer to him, lacing their fingers together. “You loved him. No one thinks rationally in that kind of situation, Lou.”

He sighs. “I don’t think I was really thinking rationally on that beach, either.”

He’s quiet for a minute, tracing along Louis’ knuckles. “ _ The Bachelor _ was clearly a great choice for you, seeing as the object of the show is to choose between two people. We should send Zayn flowers as a thank you.”

He snorts. “I don’t think he knew, really. I mean, he knew what happened with Nate, but I don’t think he ever thought I would explode like that.  _ I _ didn’t think it would happen, either.” He takes a deep breath. “I was standing on that beach with Lydia and I just kept thinking over and over again, ‘I am so desperately in love with you, Nathan, pick me.’ Except, it was almost two years later, and instead of Nathan, it was you. And it hurt worse, somehow. History was repeating itself and I panicked.”

“If you had told me then, I could have told you how in love with you I was, too. Louis.” He frowns. “I’m so, sorry.”

“It’s my own doing, yeah?”

Harry nods. “You can’t take all the blame. It’s not all your fault.”

“I guess.”

“I’m glad I understand it all now, but Jesus, I wish you could have said it at the time. It would have saved me a lot of time of wondering.”

He shrugs. “Well. Now you know.”

“I do.” He kisses the back of Louis’ hand. “You won’t ever have to ask me to pick between you and someone else, just so you know.”

Louis makes a face. “Harry.”

“ _ Again, _ you won’t ever have to ask me to pick between you and someone else  _ again. _ ”

He laughs. “Thank you.”

“We couldn’t have found each other on a different reality TV show? Something less emotionally traumatic? Like  _ Big Brother. _ Or  _ Survivor _ .”

“If you think I’d willingly end up on  _ Survivor _ …”

“You didn’t even willingly end up on  _ The Bachelor _ . You were forced into it.”

“Ah, true.”

He kisses the top of Louis’ head. “Hey, Lou.”

“Mmm.”

“Thank you for not leaving when all of that happened. And for not leaving now.”

“Thanks for listening.” The way Harry is rubbing his leg feels nice, and his eyes start to slip shut.

“Baby.”

“What.”

“Can I take you out on a date?”

Louis cracks one eye open. “We’re in hiding.”

“No one’s gonna see us at 12:39 in the morning.”

“Wait, you mean right  _ now _ ?!”

“Yeah.” His smile is contagious. “Let’s get the hell out of this house and away from this shitty conversation and let’s go have our first date. No cameras, no crew, just us in our city.”

“Nothing is even open right now.”

“We’ll find something. Get up.”

“Ugh. No. You just made me spill my heart and guts out to you and now I’m tired.”

“Heart  _ and _ guts?”

“Yeah, all over the floor.”

“I’ll clean it up later, but right now, I want to take my fianc é out on a date.”

He rolls his eyes. “Alright, Styles, but you better make this worth it.”

“I aim to please.”

 

The air has a slight chill, strange for April in San Francisco, but they leave the windows down, anyway, Louis keeping his hand outside, letting the wind knock it down over and over again.

He feels better,  _ so _ much better, now that everything is on the table and Harry  _ knows _ ; he knows and loves him and wants to take him out on midnight dates in his -  _ their _ \- city.

Harry looks over and smiles as he turns up the volume on the radio, putting his hand on the inside of Louis’ thigh, and Louis closes his eyes, listening to Harry humming along to the song.

_ “I drive a beat-up car, a caravan, the color blue / Reminds me of your eyes and all the places we've been to / We're tethered to the leather, searching for a better view / It's interstellar when it's me and you.” _

He doesn’t bother opening his eyes when Harry rolls to a stop at a stoplight, tapping his fingers to the beat on Louis’ thigh, and when they take off again, Louis laces their fingers together.

_ “We look up at the stars, a perfect night to dream with you / Got nineties retro on the radio, our favorite tune / I put the pedal to the metal just to laugh with you / It's interstellar when it's just us two.” _

The roads are silent, nearly dead, Harry not having to stop at any lights for very long, and Louis doesn’t open his eyes until Harry slows the car and turns.

“Wait. Why the hell are we at Taco Bell.”

“I told you I would find some place that was open.”

Louis bursts out laughing. “Our first actual date in the real world  _ cannot _ be at Taco Bell, H!”

“Why not?!”

“Because! It’s  _ Taco Bell _ !”

“I know, and I don’t care for your negative inflection, here.”

“Oh my God. What did I do to deserve this?”

“I totally spoil you, I know.”

Louis sighs. “Fine. Crunchwrap Supreme, please.”

“Good boy,” he answers, and Louis punches him on the leg.

 

They drive around San Francisco until three in the morning, Louis feeding Harry a taco, nearly snorting when Harry swerves onto the other side of the road after Louis “accidentally” spills half of the meat and lettuce onto his lap. The music in their car is too loud, their sodas are too warm, and when Harry has to pull over from laughing so hard at Louis impersonating one of their stewardesses on their flight to London, he says, “I think this might be my favorite date with you.”

And fuck, if Louis doesn’t agree with that.   
  


* * *

The next morning, Louis wakes up with Harry nearly plastered to his back, hot and heavy, and Louis immediately shoves him off.

“I swear to god, it feels like sleeping with a llama,” he mumbles, kicking the blankets off.

“Llama?” Harry murmurs, still half asleep.

“Yeah, with all the hair and limbs.”

“Are llamas typically known for their volume of hair? Or excessive amount of limbs?”

Louis stares at him, unamused. “I take it back, it just feels like sleeping with a jackass.”

“Hee-haw.”

“Honestly, you are the most insufferable person I’ve ever met.”

“You don’t like my donkey noises?”

“I don’t like your anything.”

Harry rolls over and props himself up onto his elbows, smirking. “That’s too bad, because I  _ love _ your  _ everything _ .”

Louis looks down and sees Harry tenting in his boxers. “Yeah, I can see that.”

“ _ Louis _ ,” he whines, pushing his hips forward into Louis’ hip. “I wanna fuck you.”

“You always wanna fuck me…”

“So?”

“I don’t wanna have sex with you anymore. It’s all we’ve done in the past month. Remember when I used to go outside and experience nature and wildlife?”

“Who cares about nature.” He kisses Louis’ bare shoulder.

“You do.”

“Not right now, I don’t.”

Louis’ about to say that he’s engaged to a nympho, and he’s creeped out by it, but then Harry dips down to kiss sloppily at Louis’ collarbones and he can feel Harry’s cock hard against his leg and he thinks about the way Harry stares at him when he’s inside him and the way it feels when Harry gets his hand around his cock and.

“Okay, yeah, let’s do it.”

Harry rolls on top of him, grinding his hips down before he can even get his lips on Louis’, and it’s already too good, Louis always so easy for him first thing in the morning.

He opens him up the same way he always does, taking his sweet fucking time, making Louis so tense and eager that he wants to hit him square in the jaw, and when he finally pushes in all the way, Louis gasps and claws at Harry’s chest, back arching.

Harry pulls out almost all the way before slamming himself back in, Louis’ thighs already shaking. “Still don’t want to have sex with me anymore?” he breathes out.

“No, I don’t,” Louis murmurs through gritted teeth.

“So you’re saying I have to fuck you better, to get you to change your mind.”

Actually, that’s not what he’s saying at all. In fact, if he keeps driving into him that way, Louis is going to come in less than five minutes without a single hand on his cock. Embarrassing. And impressive. But he can’t let Harry know that. “Yeah, fuck me better. Show me you can do it.”

“I can do it,” Harry says, changing his angle and picking up his pace. “Gonna get you off and then we can go get breakfast.”

Louis whines, closing his eyes. “I want cinnamon rolls.”

Harry bites at his shoulder, hands squeezing his hips. “Whatever you want. Just. Come for me. Always look so good when you do, always feel so fucking good,  _ c’mon _ , baby.”

“Fuck.” He grips onto Harry’s shoulder while Harry keeps working his hips mercilessly into Louis’, coming onto his stomach without a sound.

“Gorgeous,” Harry murmurs, coming inside of Louis while he’s kissing up and down his neck. “Love you.”

Louis waits for Harry to pull out and lay down on his back, eyes closed, when he pinches his bicep. “Hey.”

“Why do you always have to get my attention that way? I have so many bruises from you.”

He ignores him. “You’re coming on a little strong, saying ‘I love you’ the morning after our first date, you know.”

Harry smiles. “Also told you I don’t put out on the first date, either, but looks like you’re a game changer.”

 

Breakfast is sublime, and Louis openly admits he loves the cinnamon rolls more than he loves Harry, which says  _ a lot _ about the chef’s baking abilities, because he loves the boy across from him so much, it nearly hurts.   
  


* * *

The week before the finale, Louis is packing to head to LA for the final rose ceremony, gearing up to interview and see everyone from the show for the first time since Fiji. He’s shoving random toiletries into his suitcase, this week’s episode playing in the background, desperately trying to ignore Cam and Harry kissing on the screen, and he looks up when he realizes he’s about to met Harry’s family for the first time.

It’s surreal and makes his throat constrict a little bit to watch Harry looking at him the way he was, even amidst all of their tension and awkwardness, and he smiles when Gemma starts threatening him outside on the beach.

And when they walk back into the room, the camera zooms in on Anne and Harry, subtitles popping up because of how quietly they’re talking. Louis strains to listen, reading along with the words scrolling by on the screen.

Anne pulls Harry in for a hug and whispers into his ear, “I think I love him,” and Harry whispers back, “I think I do, too.”

Louis wipes at his tears, throwing more useless items into his suitcase, including a shower cap and the wrench he sees laying on the end table, and mumbles, “Fucking Harry. Telling his mum he loved me before I even knew. Goddamnit.”   
  


* * *

Louis stands on his tip toes, readjusting Harry’s tie. “Okay, so, what  _ exactly _ do we do when we go out on stage, again?”

Harry sighs, batting Louis’ hand away. “I  _ told _ you. I have to go out on stage first. I sit down and talk with Chris Harrison and Cam, and whomever else in the audience has a question. Then they call you out and you sit with me on the couch and we answer questions for, like, four minutes maximum. Louis, you’ve seen this thing a hundred times. It’s not any different in real life as it is on TV. And stop touching my tie. It was fine.”

“ _ Now _ it is.” He bounces on the balls of his feet, clicking his tongue. “I think I’m nervous.”

“Gee, I couldn’t have guessed.”

“Fucking  _ help _ me instead of being a royal dick about it, Jesus Christ.”

He smiles. “Baby. You are the strongest, most intelligent, wittiest, caring person I know. You can take anything that gets thrown your way.”

“Kiss ass.”

He shakes his head, still smiling. “But you don’t have anything to worry about, anyway. It’s just a basic interview, mostly stuff about what we’ve been doing since the proposal. And if anyone tries to be rude to you, they’ll have to go through me first.”

“Oi, the  _ drama. _ Thanks, H, but I can hold my own. I’m stronger than you, anyway.”

“Should we put that theory to the test?”

“Are you suggesting we wrestle right here?”

“I am now.”

Dale comes up behind them, pulling off his headphones. “I can’t believe I have to babysit you two, honestly. Harry, we need you on stage in two minutes. Louis, you stay back here, and we’ll signal you when we’re ready. And don’t fucking wrestle, for the love of God, you’re grown,  _ engaged _ men.”

Harry looks Louis up and down. “You’re a grown man?”

Louis kicks him in the knees and he goes down to the ground immediately.

 

Waiting backstage with Harry is nerve wracking enough; waiting  _ alone _ is near impossible. Louis is pretty sure he’s sweating all the way through his suit, and he wonders if someone happens to have a straight jacket handy for him to wear, or a panic room to sit in.

He’s concentrating on his breathing when Lydia approaches him. “Hi, Lou!” She goes in for a hug and pauses. “Why are you green.”

“I honestly think I’m going to be sick.”

“I can see that. Why?”

“This is live TV. It’s not recorded. Like, this is happening  _ now _ .”

“I’m aware of how live TV works.”

He groans. “Harry was so nonchalant about it and I’m about four seconds away from heaving. Why isn’t he nervous?!”

She rubs his back. “Okay, but why are you freaking? You have an amazing stage presence, and it’s not like you’ll have the entire nation sitting in there with you. There’s only about 100 people in the audience. And Harry will be there right next to you.”

He inhales deeply. “I know. I just want to make sure everything goes smoothly, yeah? Harry’s in the press enough. I don’t want to do something stupid and put his name in the media even more.”

“That won’t happen. You’re all in your head about it.”

He shrugs. “Yeah, maybe.”

“You gonna be okay?”

He nods. “I think so. I just need a minute. Or drugs. Or Harry. Or my mum.”

She laughs. “I can’t help you with any of those things. But I do have something else.”

He raises his brow. “Alcohol?”

“No, stop guessing. Harry’s obviously busy so he instructed me to do it for him.”

“Lydia, I’m sure you’re lovely, but I don’t want to sleep with you.”

“I said stop guessing, holy fuck.” She rolls her eyes. “Come with me, quick. We have about 15 minutes before I need to send you out there.”

He follows her down a long hallway and she stops him before just before they enter an office. He tries to peer over her shoulder and she slaps him across the chest.

“Ow?”

“Harry called me last week and said he knew you’d be panicking right about now.”

“I hate when he’s right.”

“And he wanted to do something for you, something that would bring you some calmness. And he knows you’ve been missing home…”

“Lydia. Who’s in this room.”

“Go ahead.”

He looks at her with a blank expression on his face and starts pushing the door open slowly. “I’m half expecting this to be the plot of a horror film. Something in here is gonna slice me, isn’t it.”

“Yes, Harry decided to have you murdered.”

“I mean, that would  _ definitely  _ calm me. Because I’d be dead.”

She throws her hands in the air. “Get the hell in that damn room!”

“Jeez. Bossy.” He kicks it open the rest of the way, and immediately starts screaming. “Oh my God, what the fuck!”

Niall, Liam, and Zayn are all standing there, matching, goofy grins plastered to each of their faces, and Liam breaks first, laughing and charging at Louis, nearly squeezing him to death.

“Lydia!” he yells, squirming out of Liam’s embrace, “It’s my Liam! And my Niall and my Zayn! My people are here! Wait, get off of me, you’re wrinkling my suit!”

She’s smirking, obviously pleased. “I know, I see them.”

“When did you get here?!”

Niall slaps him on the back. “Early this morning.”

“Wanted to watch your live TV debut,” Zayn adds.

“And Harry did this?”

Niall nods. “Yeah, he did. You don’t care if we stay with you, right?”

“Mate, you can  _ keep _ my house. You fucking flew here.”

He laughs. “We did.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Trying to get rid of us already?” Zayn asks.

“Yes, please leave me,” Louis says, going in for a group hug.

They stand there in a circle and talk for another few minutes, Louis smiling so hard, he’s squinting and he may or may not tear up a couple of times. It’s been a  _ long _ time, okay?

He’s in the middle of an animated story about short sheeting the beds of all the guys he didn’t like in the mansion when Lydia cuts him off.

“Lou, we have to get you on stage. These guys will be back here when you’re done. Let’s get out there.”

“No, I’d rather do this.”

“Louis,” she warns.

He sighs. “Ugh. Fine. Okay, this will hopefully take no more than, like, ten minutes. And then we’re all going out for drinks. You guys and me and Harry…” He trails off. “Oh my God. I can go outside with Harry after this.”

Niall raises his brow. “Okay?”

“No. You guys don’t get it. I can leave the house  _ with _ my  _ fianc _ _ é _ .” He puts his hand over his face. “Alright, let’s fucking do this!  _ Yes _ ! Let’s get out there!”

Lydia smirks. “Harry really knew what he was doing. Unbelievable.”

Louis straightens his tie, making his final adjustments before taking the stage. “With what?”

“Knowing what would calm you down.”

He thinks about it for a minute, then smiles. “He really did.” He pauses and smirks. “How am I going to thank him?”

All three boys groan collectively and Liam covers his face with his hands. “I swear to God, if we can hear you having sex tonight…”

He kisses Liam square on the mouth before he can keep talking, startling him, and with a whoop, he runs out the door, finally ready to take the stage. He only makes it about halfway down the corridor before he hears Lydia start yelling after him, “And by the way, Tomlinson, don’t think I didn’t notice the missing suit! You need to ship that back to me ASAP or you are dead meat!”

He laughs maniacally, shouting back, “It fits me like a glove. Sorry, love! Finder’s keepers! Or I might sell it on eBay and make a damn  _ fortune _ !”

 

The lights are bright and blinding when he steps out onto the stage, the noise from the crowd bordering on deafening, and he can’t stop smiling. The look on his face matches Harry’s, he’s sure, which looks like it’s about to split in half. He doesn’t really recall walking across the stage, or shaking Chris’ hand, or waving to the audience, but when he watches it back weeks later, he’ll see that he did. All he remembers right now, in this moment, is wrapping his arms around Harry and breathing in the smell of his cologne, all but melting into his embrace. Harry squeezes tightly, kissing his hair, and Christ, it’s so, so good.

When the crowd starts to die down, he takes a seat next to Harry on the plush, white couch, rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants, smiling harder when Harry drapes his arm over his shoulder.

“So, this is my boy!” he says stupidly, and a couple of the audience members whistle and cheer.

Louis slaps his leg. “They know who I am.”

“Yeah, but I like telling people. Oh my God, baby, I can  _ finally _ tell people. Guys, this is my  fianc é! Look at his face!”

He blushes. “Harold, please.”

Chris smiles and places his hands on his lap. “Louis, welcome.”

Louis nods. “Thank you. It’s good to be here.”

“Here with me?” Harry asks, nudging him with his elbow.

“No, here on this couch.” He bounces up and down on the cushion. “So comfy.”

“Okay. Louis.” Chris’ expression becomes serious and Louis stops moving. “Let’s first talk about the proposal. Did you have an idea it was you, and not Cam?”

Harry laces his fingers through Louis’ hand before he starts talking. “I was hoping it was me,” he says honestly, half smiling. “Going into it, I wasn’t 100% sure, but looking back, I should have known. I mean, like, I really  _ know _ this guy.”

“You do,” Harry confirms.

“Yeah, I do, and I feel stupid for even questioning him, really.”

Chris turns to Harry. “When did you know, Harry, that you wanted it to be Louis? When did you decide you wanted to propose to him?”

“I never got to propose to him, remember? Not really, anyway. It got hijacked.”

Louis shakes his head and brushes his hair out of his eyes. “You were taking too long, that’s not my problem.”

Harry ignores him. “Well. He was the first person to grab my attention, and the only one to keep it all the way through. But I regretted giving him the first impression rose for a while.”

“Hey. I didn’t know that.”

He nods. “Yeah, I feel like there’s a bad omen surrounding whomever receives the first rose of the season. It always seems that everything goes downhill from there. And I was afraid of that for a while.”

“Getting superstitious on me, Styles?”

“I guess so. I just wanted all the good luck I could get, so I could keep you.”

The audience  _ aww _ ’s and Louis makes fake gagging noises.

Chris laughs. “So, it was him from the beginning?”

Harry shrugs. “Did you not watch the season, Chris? It was, like, painfully obvious. I tried to be subtle but…”

Louis pats his knee affectionately. “We’ll work on that skill.”

“Thanks, baby, I appreciate it.”

“And Louis. Was it the same for you? Did you know as early on as Harry did that you two were a perfect match?”

“I liked that he felt like my best friend from the beginning. That was important to me. I was comfortable enough with him from day one to joke with him and make fun of him. But it really hit me hard around the mountain date that it was more than that.” He looks up at Harry. “ I knew I was in love with him in London, at the aquarium. He brought my family to me, and that was kind of just it.”

Harry smiles. “That’s funny, because I knew I was in love with you when I was on the phone with your mom earlier that week, making sure all the plans were still set in stone. I remember hanging up and being like, ‘Yeah, you’re screwed.’”

Louis laughs. “I didn’t know that.”

“Your mom definitely did.”

“No surprise there. I’m pretty sure she can hear people’s thoughts.”

Chris leans forward in his seat. “So, other than adjusting to this new chapter of your lives--”

“And hiding,” Louis adds, rolling his eyes.

“--have you started planning the wedding?”

“Not yet, no. I’m still working on getting Louis settled into San Francisco. He’s dealing with transferring his job, and he’s flying back and forth between here and Chicago every couple of weeks, so we’ve been busy.”

Louis nods. “Hectic, definitely. But good. All very good.”

Harry continues. “I feel like when people say, ‘We’re enjoying our engagement,’ they really mean they don’t have any intention of getting married. But I’m serious when I say we’re truly enjoying our engagement, and I’m going to marry him. And I’m so excited to.”

“Eh, I’m feeling fairly average about it. I’m a little bored of you, actually.”

“Nice.”

“Thanks.”

Chris laughs. “I can see you guys are still best friends.”

Louis reaches up to touch Harry’s hand, still draped around his shoulder. “ We’re not always lovey-dovey,” he makes a face at the word choice, “or falling all over each other. But I  _ like _ it that way.  We’re a team, and it’s more than just romance.  We have fun.”

Harry waggles his eyebrows. “Hell yeah, we do.”

“Okay, that’s enough.”

Chris holds up his hands. “That’s enough is right.” He turns to Louis. “What are your general thoughts about this whole process? I know you were a bit skeptical at the beginning.”

“I was. I still am, a little bit. I think Harry and I just got lucky. But.” He pauses, trying not to focus too hard on the fact that the room is suddenly dead silent. “Christ, I’m really happy, yeah? I feel like anything else I could say would cheapen it.” He feels Harry’s lips on the top of his head and he smiles.

“And Harry? Your second time through the ringer? What are you thinking, now that it’s all over?”

“How relieved I am,” he says with a laugh. “ Honestly, the most irresponsible, stupidest thing I’ve ever done, planning a future with someone if I wasn’t sure if he even loved me back.”

“Harry,” Louis scoffs. “C’mon. You knew. You knew we were a sure thing. Deep down, you knew had nothing to worry about.”

His blush is deep when he grips Louis’ shoulder. “Yeah. I think, deep down, I knew. Thank God.”

Chris smiles, eyes bright. “Any last thoughts, Louis?”

“Yeah, actually. I didn’t realize how much I swore until I started counting the amount of times they had to bleep me out, and I’d like to apologize for that.”

The audience laughs, and so does Harry. “You should hear him at home. Believe it or not, what you heard on the show was actually censored.”

“And any last thoughts for you, Harry? Or any words of advice for the next group of people about to start their journey on  _ The Bachelor _ ?”

Harry clears his throat. “It’s not all easy, this process, or this life we’re creating together. We work at our relationship everyday, just like normal people; it just so happens that the way we met wasn’t normal. And yeah, everything seemed so  _ magical _ on the show, because it kind of was. We met in a mansion and fell in love on top of mountains and in the tides and watching sunsets and the thing is… I don’t want it to be that easy. The challenges make this real, and having Louis is the realest thing I’ve ever experienced. Magic, it was, but  _ this _ . The reality and the hardships and the baggage that comes with it. This is better.”

Louis closes his eyes. “Jesus, Styles.” He twists to look up at him, blinking tears away. “I’m so glad I’m stuck with you.”

“Me, too, baby.” He dips down to kiss him, sweetly and softly on the lips, and Louis can faintly hear the sound of the crowd clapping and cheering, the rushing in his ears too loud to be completely sure. They’re still kissing when the lights dim, the cameras stop rolling, and a crew members yells,  “And that’s a wrap, everybody!”

A wrap for the season, the start of everything else.

And if that isn’t real life, honest to God  _ magic _ , Louis doesn’t know what is.


	4. Prologue/Epilogue

When Harry’s sister had first suggested that he go on  _ The Bachelor _ , he’d all but spit in her face from laughter.

“Why would you  _ ever _ think that’d be something I’d want to do?!”

“Because you’re a catch.”

“Oh. That was nicer than I expected.”

“Let me finish. You’re a catch to someone who’s blinded by Hollywood and fame and won’t be able to tell how truly horrible you are.”

“ _ There _ we go.”

“No, but seriously. You’d be so good at it. All of these men are actual idiots; you’d totally blow them out of the water. You’re gorgeous and witty and smart and would have been falling at their feet immediately. And you’d have fun.”

He shrugs. “That’s all nice, Gemma, but, like. Who actually believes in any of that stuff? No one  _ actually _ falls in love on national television and has a successful, healthy relationship afterward. It isn’t normal. And it isn’t happening.”

 

Except it  _ does _ happen eight weeks later, when Gemma begged and pleaded nonstop everyday for two weeks straight until he gave in just to make her shut up.

“But. Chances are, I won’t even get picked. And who knows if I’ll make it past the first night?”

“Harry, you don’t owe me a single birthday present for the next three years. This is the greatest gift in my entire existence.”

“I want that in writing.”

 

But then he gets chosen, and he makes it past week one, past week two, week three, week four, and suddenly, he’s at the proposal, getting his heart broken, walking back to the limo with his heart in his throat and his pride smeared across the floor. He calls Gemma crying, asking her how someone like  _ him _ could actually fall for something like  _ this _ , and she cries, too, swearing that she never thought any of this would pan out this way, and that she’s so, so sorry.

 

When Chris Harrison asks him to be the bachelor for the next season, his immediate response is a big fat N-O.

“I’m not falling for this shit again. I thought it would be fun the first time around, and it was, up until, like, week six. Then it started to get a little too real and I hate you for it.”

Chris laughs. “Harry, did you know you are overwhelmingly the most popular contestant in the show’s history? By an absolute landslide?”

He sits up a little straighter at that. “Really?”

He nods. “Yes. The ratings kept up because of you, and when we did polling, you were the America’s favorite by more than 82%.”

“Whoa.”

“Whoa is right.” Chris leans forward in his chair. “You don’t have to say yes, but I think there are going to be so many people lining up to meet you and be with you, we’re going to have no problem finding 25 men who are a perfect match for you. I can almost guarantee it. The picking’s won’t be slim, my friend.”

Harry groans. “I can’t believe I’m about to say yes. Ugh. Do you want to call Gemma and tell her or should I?”   
  


* * *

Several weeks later, Harry is standing in front of the mansion, suit fitted to his body impeccably, tie snug, hair styled in a way he could never manage on his own, thanks to the network’s glam team.

The first limo of guys is excellent, all handsome and smart, one extremely funny that has Harry reaching for more. Limo number two falls a little flat, only one man making a solid impression, and same goes for the third. The fourth limo, however, is impeccable, and each guy is somehow better than the last.

And then comes limo five. Lucky number five. Harry endures some horrible jokes and some uncomfortable pickup lines, definitely all courtesy of the show’s writers, he’s sure, and all he can think about is how badly he wants to take off his new shoes that aren’t broken in yet when the last guy steps out.

He looks impossibly nervous and Harry  _ gets _ that; he’s been through it. Hell, he’s  _ still _ going through it. He watches attentively as he brushes his hair out of his eyes, eyes casting downward, and he knows this guy is gorgeous without even seeing his entire face.

_ Come on, look up, look up. _

As if he can hear Harry’s thoughts, he stands up straight, staring directly at Harry, and Harry realizes he’s already grinning so hard, he can feel his dimple coming to life.

He can’t think of anything to do or say, simply mouthing, “Wow,” bouncing on his feet. It’s not adequate enough, but it makes this guy blush high on his cheekbones, so Harry considers that a win.

He clears his throat, looking up at Harry. “I’m Louis, and I’m afraid I don’t have any gimmicks for you.”

Harry looks down at the ground and laughs, his stomach clenching. “Oh, and he has an  _ accent. _ Cut me some slack. You definitely don’t need a gimmick, Louis. You are… Wow.”

Louis smirks. “Yes, I am wow. That is my profession, actually.”

“Professional wower?”

“Indeed.”

Harry’s smile is so big, it nearly hurts, feeling like it’s going to split his face in half. He reaches out and grips Louis’ elbow, physically can't stop himself. “Other than wowing, what do you do?”

“I work in advertising.”

“Oh, that’s interesting.”

“No, it really isn’t. One shouldn’t lie so early on, Harry.”

He laughs again, unable to stop it, and he clutches Louis’ elbow even more firmly, desperate to not let go. “I’m not lying! I honestly wanted to go into advertising for the longest time.”

“But then you became a dentist instead. Those aren’t even remotely similar, how’d you choose that one?” Louis makes a face that shows he clearly didn’t mean to say that out loud. “Probably creepy that I’m bringing up the fact that I know what you do for a living and you don’t even know my last name yet.”

Harry smirks. “I take it you watched the show last season?”

Louis swallows. “Yeah. Why else do you think I’m here? I wouldn’t have flown across the country for just anyone,” he mumbles, eyes wide.

“If I wasn’t feeling lucky before, I’m definitely feeling pretty lucky right about now.” And that's the most truthful thing he's said thus far, to anyone.

His eyes cast downward momentarily. “Tomlinson. My last name. It’s Tomlinson,” he says after a beat.

“Louis Tomlinson, it’s been my pleasure to meet you,” Harry says, fingers itching to touch more, mind desperate to hear more.

He nods. “Likewise. I’ll, uh, see you inside?”

“Most definitely.” He’s helpless to not pull Louis in for a hug, so he does, embracing him tightly, Louis going willingly, and as he watches Louis walk away, he says out loud to Chris, “So, Louis’ the one to beat, it would appear.”

Chris laughs. “Based on the way your face looks right now, I would say that I agree with you.”

“I’m trying not to be too obvious.”

“Well, you’re not doing a great job there, pal.”

 

It’s been over a year since then, and the ranks are still the same. No one can beat his Louis.

No one even comes  _ close _ .


End file.
